The Faces of War
by heartofahobbit
Summary: a continuation of Frodo's life after the War of the Rings. In Minas Tirith he struggles against another evil at the insistance of the Valar's visions. The new King finds himself unable to help his old friend find his way in a world still fighting ...
1. Default Chapter

The Faces of War

  


Chapter 1: Restless

  


The soft glow of morning was slowly creeping over the distant mountains as the days' presence made itself known. The spires of the city soon reflected the intended glory of the day as

Minis Tirith arose from it's slumber. The sultry heat of the early morning was magnified by the stillness of the air, no breeze or wisp of air was stirring.

  


In a tower room on the seventh tier of the city a restless sleeper sought to hold on to his last moments of peaceful slumber. The burgeoning heat of the day entered his dreams and he was suddenly aware of his discomfort. His thin pale face glistened with a fine sheen of sweat and his dark curls were plastered to his neck and forehead.

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_ Heat, glaring endless heat and the torture of the relentless strength of the sun haunted his steps. He had to keep moving, one step, another. The sun bore down upon him as he looked to the distant barren_ _landscape, he saw only mile upon mile of dead twisted brush and grey rock and dust. 'Hot' he thought to himself and felt the heat with every fiber of his mind. He lifted his hand to wipe the sweat from his dry eyes and kept on moving. His burden was heavier now and he walked stooped and often stumbled in his weariness. A sudden dizziness took him and he swayed as if to fall but was distracted by the absence of his companion. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun as he searched the ugly misshapen land around him. His breaths came faster as panic took him, he was alone. "Sam" he murmured hoarsely, "Sam" he gasped and then he cried "SAM"._

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The noise of hastily running feet filled the corridor. The chamber door was flung open and in seconds a sandy haired figure knelt by the side of the bed. 

  


"Shhhh, I'm here now Mr. Frodo, I'm here..." Sam said softly as he reached for his friend's hand. Sam looked at the pale and sweat drenched form before him "it's gonna be jest fine Mr. Frodo". 

  


Frodo lay panting upon the confusion of richly brocaded coverings, his fists clenching the sheets in tight balls, his eyes still closed. Sam looked quickly about the chamber and took in the jumbled bed covers, the piles of books and abundance of water glasses scattered about the room. He noted that the glasses were in various stages of being started or finished. He sighed quietly to himself, it seemed as if Frodo could never get enough water. As if his friend had read his mind, a weak voice from the bed said "thirsty Sam....water please." "Coming up sir, but I shouldn't think ye'd be able to hold another drop from the look 'o things round here." Sam replied.

  


Frodo smiled weakly in reply to his friend's jest and opening his eyes began to slowly lift himself from his pillows. He found he had to stop his upward motion and clench his eyes closed to fight against the dizziness that assailed him. He froze for a moment to still the motion of his mind then exhaled forcefully, not even realizing he'd been holding his breath. Sam was just within reach and his hand shot out to steady him "Frodo?" he asked, concern in his voice.

  


"It's all right Sam, just a little dizzy 'tis all." Sam stared at Frodo, not fully satisfied and Frodo placed his pale hand upon Sam's roughened one and staring straight into his warm brown eyes said emphatically " I am fine Sam....really."

  


Sam stared a moment at his friend, making his own judgement regarding his health and thought to himself 'yer not fine, yer weak, ya don't eat barely a'tall, ya don't sleep sound...yer not fine' but he said "If yer certain of it Sir...here let me help ya ta sit up a bit more, there you go...there jest like that" He said as he gently helped Frodo to a more upright position then leaned him back into a veritable nest of pillows. Sam gave him a fresh cup of water "Thank you Sam" Frodo said with a quiet smile that gently cast his lips upwards but did not reach his eyes. Sam had to turn away so that Frodo'd not see the tear that came to his eye when the emptiness of his friend's smile caught him off guard.

  


Sam bustled about the room, making his body busy to still the unrest in his mind. "Up reading late again I see. I fer one canna see where Strider even finds ya all these books....surely ye've read 'em all by now?" Sam said with forced cheerfulness as he tried to bring order to the confusion around him. 

  


"Sam" Frodo, his eyes still closed, spoke with quiet bemusement from his nest of pillow "You'd best remember to address our King in a more respectful manner. Sam froze and suddenly paled "I meant him no disrespect Mr. Frodo..I...I" Frodo smiled again and opening his eyes took in the discomfort his comment had caused. "Now Sam, not to worry my friend, our King will always be Strider to us. Why I daresay he might not allow you to call him by any other name when we're together". "Well now Mr. Frodo I can speak of him to you as Strider sure enough, but being the ninnyhammer that I am...well I jest might ferget myself one day and call him that in front of someone important..and how would that look?" Sam asked, clearly exasperated by his mistake. "It would look like the type of mistake a dear and close friend might make, and therefore 'twould easily be forgiven" Frodo reassured his trusted servant. "Hummpf" was Sam's grunted reply as he handed his Mr. Frodo a dampened towel and stood by waiting for him to use it. 

  


Frodo looked up with gratitude to Sam as he took the towel and wiped the nights' sweat from his face and sleep from his eyes. He groaned his appreciation and stretched as he tried in vain to loosen his ever sore and tired muscles. "Who are these important 'folks' you speak of Sam?" Frodo asked "anyone in particular or just all the people's of middle earth who want our King's attention now?" " 'twasn't thinking of a any one special person Mr. Frodo, just special people such as the lords 'n ladies and such that flit about the place here." Sam replied . Frodo nodded.

  


"Now Sir, I'm off ta get yer tea...that is unless ye'd be liking some breakfast ta help it down with?" Sam asked hopefully eyeing the too thin form of his master as he stretched again. "No thank you Sam, not hungry" Frodo said softly, a shadow passing over his face as he tried to avoid making eye contact with Sam. He knew how much it hurt Sam when he did not eat, but his throat was often sore and he found all but the softest food difficult to swallow. He couldn't worry Sam with all the reasons why he _couldn't _eat, it was just easier to say he was not hungry. Frodo's efforts to keep Sam from worrying earned him another "hummpf" from the back of Sam's head as he turned to leave the room.

  


"Sam?" Frodo's questioning tone stopped the stocky hobbit in his tracks, he turned. "Yes Mr. Frodo?" "Has Aragorn mentioned any difficulties arising outside the gates of the city of late?" Frodo asked. " Difficulties Sir? In what manner do ya mean?" Sam asked in reply as he cocked his head and stared suspiciously at his friend. Frodo looked out the window, over the spires of the city...a faraway look in his gentle blue eyes. Sam stepped back towards him "Sir? What sort of difficulties are yer meaning?" he asked with a slowly growing edginess in his tone. Sam watched his master's face carefully for any sign that might tell him just what thoughts might be passing behind his brilliant blue eyes. He frowned a bit when he thought he a saw a tinge of pain pull at the corner of his master's mouth.

  


Frodo clenched his eyes closed and slowly turned his head from one side to another as a smile playing at the edge of his lips. "Frodo, Sir....What is it?" Sam was becoming worried by the tone and the faces his master was making...'jest what is he trying so hard not to tell me?' he thought as he waited for Frodo to respond. Frodo sighed as he smiled a wistful, 'you'll never understand' smile and said " 'tis nothing Sam, well I guess maybe it's that...well with all the affairs of the world laid at the feet of our friend Strider I'm just feeling a little lost in the midst is all." Sam exhaled his worry "Well...if getting you lost in a midst is gonna allow you to rest and get yerself better....well then I'd like to see a little more midst here about." Sam said stoutly, still eyeing his friend with a certain degree of suspicion, he left to go get the morning tea, leaving Frodo's laugh in his wake.

  


Frodo smiled at his Sam...'He is a treasure, and no mistake' he thought to himself...allowing his thoughts to slide into the vernacular of his gardener. He sighed and began to massage his temples as he felt an oncoming warning of pain that was waiting for him...no, there was no mistake...it was coming. He wondered when was the last time he'd had one of _these_ headaches?

He couldn't face where his memories might lead him with that question...he forced his thoughts elsewhere. He took stock, his dreams were allowing him no rest...the headache was lurking in his every daytime moment..._and_ it was becoming more difficult to hide from Sam. 'I'd best let this one come then....or Sam 'll see it for sure. He leaned back and closed his eyes...he opened his mind and his thoughts began to wander....

  
  


Sam stomped down to the kitchen 'somethin's not right with him I jest know it....why does he have to be so stubborn?' he thought as he descended yet another set of stairs. He went through a mental checklist 'he's not sleeping well...that's plain enough, but not nothing new Samwise' he chastised himself. 'He's worried about Aragorn's tasks as King....afraid he'll wear 'imself out I expect' He shook his head. As he rounded the last corner and entered the lower kitchen the image of Frodo's face and his slight grimace of pain came to him. "He's getting one of those headaches I'll bet" he said out loud as the realization came to him. " A headache Master Samwise? Shall I be calling a healer for ya" asked a pert red cheeked scullery maid. "What? Oh no Jana...not fer me thanks...jest talking through my worries I was....thanks anyway" He said a little embarrassed at being caught talking to himself. He started gathering his tea tray and put a few delicate biscuits on a tiny plate as well. 'He might jest eat this dainty bit and not even realize

it.' he thought to himself hopefully. He frowned as he picked up the tray and made his way back up the steps to their chambers. .With the image of his fragile master playing in his mind he shook his head at the notion of a hobbit _not_ being hungry, it just was not possible. Sam wondered yet again what food it was that his master craved..." 'E must want something and I jest haven't found it yet'. With that thought in mind, he prepared to enter the chamber.

  


Frodo's vision slowly enveloped him.....

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_ It was hot, the heat waves danced about as the shimmering sun beat down upon the line of stumbling marchers. Men on horseback stalked the perimeter of their prize. The dead stillness of the desert was broken by the sounds of harshly shouted commands and cracking whips as the air filled with the weight of their threats. The marchers doggedly continued, trying to keep pace with the unyielding demands of their captors. Suddenly one fell_ _and another rushed to it's aid. As these marchers broke rank, the others stopped, swaying dazed and disoriented by their fatigue and fear. "Yo...you there, get ya on back ta where ya belong" shouted one man as he gleefully uncoiled his whip to enforce his command. The whip snaked out and with a loud crack struck and wound it's way about the neck of the second marcher...the one who'd tried to help. With a cry the marcher was pulled off his feet and dragged back to his place in line, sobbing. The man with the whip swung his leg from his saddle and_ _approached the fallen marcher with an ugly sneer on his hardened face. He kicked the dust covered heap at his feet "ah...this one's no good...let the vultures get it" . His eyes turned skyward to the trailing scavengers, he'd ensure they met no resistance with their prey, he raised his club high_....

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Frodo swung his feet from the bed and stumbled blindly to the window....he clenched his eyes closed and grabbed his head to stop the vision....stop the pain. "No" he screamed eyes wide in terror.

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_The blond curls of the little girl were dyed red with her blood, her sightless eyes wide with the horror of her last moments. The Marchers moved on....line after line of stumbling children. The harsh shouts of men, cracking of whips and muffled sobs the only sounds that broke the stillness._

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Frodo's eyes rolled back into his head as the agony of his last vision ripped a hole in his heart.

"No" he sobbed as he collapsed to his knees.

  


Sam's blood ran cold at the sound coming from behind the chamber door....he dropped the tray with a loud crash and heedless of the mess he'd left he burst into the chamber. At first his frantic eyes could not find that which they so desperately sought...a muffled sob caught his attention and he ran to his master huddled on the floor. He grabbed him by the upper arms and stared into eyes that were glazed with pain and terror...he shook him, wanting to pull him from his pain "Mr. Frodo" he whispered gently, not wanting to frighten him further. Enormous blue eyes pulled him into his private agony as he heard him whimper "No...not the children". Sam caught his master and held him hard as he collapsed. He laid him out carefully and shouted for the hallway page to bring him help.

  


Sam felt the body of his master stiffen and tense as his muscles contracted and pulled his head and back into an arch. Frodo's eyes rolled back into his head as his muscles suddenly released their hold...then tightened again. Sam tried to still his master's thrashing body, but his stocky form was no match for the convulsions that ripped through the frail figure below him. For moments that stretched into forever Sam struggled to keep his friend from further harm...but each contorted spasm brought his thin body in contact with the hard world in which he lay. Sam cringed as he heard arms,legs and head hit the marble floor and as Frodo's seizure ended it left them both limp. Sam cried tears of relief. 

  


Aragorn ran into the room to find Sam cradling a limp and catatonic Frodo in his arms. He rushed to their side. He looked to Sam's tear stained face for permission then gently took Frodo up in his arms and laid him upon the still rumpled bed. He felt for a pulse and wiping the sweat from Frodo's face passed his hand over eyes that were glazed and unseeing. He carefully used thumb and forefinger to pull down the hobbit's eyelids and give him the appearance of peace. As he gently checked arms, legs and neck for injury he turned to a still shocked Sam. "What happened Sam?" he whispered. "I don't rightly know...I was coming up with his tea and there was a scream...I came in and he was kneeling, with his head in his hands..." Sam said and continued " I went ta him...I tried to help him from his fear and he looked to me like he was trying to climb into my soul...and he said..." Sam paused as he struggled to get it right "He what Sam, what did he say?" Aragorn prodded gently. "He...he said 'no, not the children' and then collapsed on me.." Sam paused to sit by his masters side and he carefully took his thin hand in his. "Then he started twitching and trashing his body ...he was so strong I jest couldn't hold him...I tried Aragorn but his body shook so..." Aragorn sought to reassure the sandy haired hobbit and said "you did all you could Sam..." Aragorn paused as his hands found several cracked ribs and he uttered a most unkingly curse in elvish before turning again to Sam. "Was there anything about his actions, perhaps earlier, or something he may have said that seemed unusual to you Sam?" He asked. Sam paused and looked thoughtful a moment before answering. "Now as you mention it Strider, he did ask me if you'd a spoken of any troubles outside the city walls." Aragorn continued to examine Frodo for injuries and his hands carefully checked his head and face. Never lifting his head from his task his eyes looked to Sam and he locked the warm brown hobbit eyes with his steely gaze as he began to speak. Just then his searching hands came in contact with something wet and warm. This newest discovery elicited another string of elvish that Sam was certain would not have found favor within the halls of Rivendell.

  


In the ensuing rush to bind up Frodo's broken ribs and stitch the gash on the back of his head , Sam forgot to ask Aragorn what his gaze had meant. Aragorn did not forget, but after seeing to the bandaging and care of the injured hobbit, he left to seek Gandalf's counsel.

  



	2. Chapter 2: Suspicious

The Faces of War

  


Chapter 2: Suspicious

  
  


As Aragorn strode through the halls and passages towards his throne room, he was filled with thoughts and images of the past month. In his minds eye he saw again the battered and near lifeless bodies of Frodo and Sam in the clutches of the great eagles at Cormallen. He felt once more the anguish of his attempts to heal and bring back from the brink the life force of the ringbearer. He wondered, yet again, if he'd made the right choice that day. He'd agonized then, his healing force had opened a view to Frodo's spirit that he'd not expected, hadn't wanted to see. The revelation that Frodo had not expected to survive the quest, and indeed had looked for death at the end, had shaken him to the core. He'd shared the knowledge of Frodo's wishes with Gandalf that day, and together they had made a choice they'd felt best for all. Aragorn entered his council chambers. He sighed, unable to rid himself of the image of Frodo's first waking moments. The battered hobbit had looked to him, not with wonder or joy, but with the deep and and bitter understanding that came from seeing his hope for salvation crumble before him. Over the weeks the ringbearer had learned to cover the honesty he'd seen reflected in the dull blue mirrors of his eyes that day, to let a veil of imagined joy and false hope shield the fellowship from his private agony. Aragorn was responsible for bringing Frodo back to a life he no longer found bearable, and while he knew the words would go unspoken, Frodo blamed him for his life.

  


The King strode anxiously to the dais as he called to one of his many advisors to send for the wizard Gandalf. Sitting upon his throne he contemplated his moments with Sam, was this latest ill of Frodo's one more dream to drive him back to the shadows? He dropped his head to his hands, hoping that these latest events could be used to aid Frodo in some way, to guide him back to a world he wanted to be part of. He looked up as he saw the doors open at the end of the cold expanse of marble and pillars that made up the throne room. More than anything he wanted to help his ailing friend, but realized that Frodo's quest for health may yet bring him to his ultimate salvation and he wondered if he'd have the strength to say farewell. As he saw the confident visage of his wizard advisor approach he shook himself from his melancholy and grew determined. He would not allow the cost of his kingdom to be measured in the life of this hobbit, that price would indeed be too high, even in a world where sacrifice had become a staple of survival. He settled in to share the events of the morning with Gandalf as those awaiting his counsel were bade to wait.

  


Aragorn shared his fears with Gandalf. "Frodo has not made the recovery that I had hoped Gandalf, in spite of the care and constant vigilance of my best healers, and the persistance of Sam." The King set his lips in a hard line "he continues to refuse food and has difficulty sleeping. Sam tells me that Frodo calls his name nightly, that he seems trapped in the foul memories of Mordor." Aragorn paused to look about his chamber, gesturing towards the small conversant groups scattered about the far end of the hall "there are many evils to be dealt with Gandalf, much in my lands requires my attention." He sighed heavily, clearly feeling the pain of many, "my people need me and I fear that I can not give the ringbearer all that he deserves." He shook his head and continued grimly "I fear we made the wrong choice at Cormallen."

  


The Wizard placed a comforting hand upon the knee of his friend "Frodo's time has not yet come, we made the right choice Aragorn...his time with us is not yet over...only..." the Wizard paused paused long moments as Aragorn turned to him. "Only what Gandalf? Counsel me, what am I to do?" genuine concern and a hint of desperation evident in his voice and manner. "Only" the Wizard repeated with emphasis "The ringbearer now needs to choose how he'll spend his time with us...I am afraid King Aragorn that now all that you, I and the rest of the fellowship can do is observe more closely how Frodo views himself." The Wizard said softly. Aragorn nodded "if I were to guess, I should say that he sees himself a burden." He sighed and continued with reflective sadness " he never wanted us to worry over him during our travels, and now that is what each and every one of us does...in fact it feels as if it is all we do." Gandalf nodded and replied "he must find a way to a build a life for himself in middle earth, the destruction of the ring is a loss we can not fully comprehend and it is not the first loss our hobbit has suffered." Gandalf said sadly. "He must find a new path to travel, a hope to bind him to us my friend." He thought for a moment "In what way are the other hobbits helping in the recovery of the city Aragorn?" Aragorn ran his hands through his oft disheveled locks and smiled "Pippin and Merry have proven quiet skilled in procuring food for the soldiers of the outer garrisons and Sam, well Sam has done wonders teaching the kitchen staffs of herbs and gardening. It surprises me not that our hobbit companions have found their callings to be in the vicinity of food" he said with a quiet laugh "but, I do not think that Frodo has the strength nor the will to participate in such things." He looked thoughtfully to a group of richly robed men in the near corner " I shall have to consult with my palace advisors to find a way in which Frodo may assist without overtaxing himself." Gandalf nodded "very wise my friend, I shall be off now to see to our friend Mr. Baggins. I leave you to your other..." he gestured towards the rapidly filling hall "duties.." Aragorn smiled wryly "I think I'd prefer to deal with the hobbits."

  


Sam moved aimlessly about the chamber, wandering from one task to another. He folded sheets, straightened papers, stacked and re-stacked the books scattered about the bedchamber, never straying far from his master's bed and if he so much as heard an uneven breath he was at his side. He paused in his mindless neatening of the space about him as he heard foot steps approaching. 'Not Aragorn' he found himself thinking 'the steps are a mite slow fer Strider' he cocked his head as he concentrated on the sounds approaching the door 'I'd wager it's..."Gandalf" he exclaimed, happy both to see the wizard and to be correct in his guess.

  


"How is he Samwise?" The Wizard asked, crossing the room in several long strides to stand at Frodo's bedside. "Well sir, 'es been sleeping right peaceful, much better'n he does most nights. Aragorn's sleeping draughts are nothing ta triffle with." Sam said as he joined the Wizard at his friend's side. Gandalf sat on the edge of the bed and studied the face of the slumbering hobbit critically. He noted the oversized bed and the large pillows that held the burden of the sick hobbit. He was struck with how ridiculously small Frodo looked in a world built for men, the room and it's furnishings were elegantly appointed for Aragorn would spare no expense for any member of the fellowship. Gandalf looked about him, Frodo looked lost and out of place in such surroundings and he found himself wondering if perhaps the Hobbit did not feel as he looked. He broke from his reverie and turned to look at Sam from under his bushy eyebrows. "Well, what has happened Sam? Why do you think Frodo has suffered this newest ailment? Come now, out with it...I am certain that you know more than you are letting on Samwise Gamgee." the wizard said gruffly. 

  


Sam looked a little uncomfortable "now Mr. Gandalf, how is it ya know what's in my head? It feels as if yer looking right inta me it does." Gandalf only raised his eyebrow higher. "Oh alright then" Sam said exasperated "now it's jest a feeling mind you, a feeling I had this morning." Sam shifted uncomfortably as Gandalf urged him to continue "Go on Sam" he said gently. "Well, earlier this morning, I came running as Mr. Frodo awoke from his sleep a yelling my name...and as he was a coming back ta himself, well he looked like he use ta when he was a getting one 'o them headaches...do ya remember them sir?" Gandalf nodded slowly and looked thoughtfully at Sam "Yes I do indeed Sam, I remember them well. Did you ask him about it?" Sam looked uncomfortable and muttered "I tried ta, and he went and pushed his answer in another direction 'till I was forgetting my question...." he looked sheepishly to the Wizard "ya know how 'e can be at times sir." "Yes Sam" the Wizard smiled gently and turned to stroke Frodo's pale cheek "I know how he can be." They both paused to watch the even rise and fall of the frail hobbit's chest a moment before Gandalf continued. "Is this the first time he 'looked' as though he were experiencing one of these headaches Sam?" Gandalf asked. "Well, no sir....and it's been on the tip 'o my tongue ta ask him fer a few days now." the loyal hobbit answered truthfully, "I guess I coulda been trying harder ta get at his answers Gandalf" Sam's voice got softer "but he gets real quiet when I fuss too much, you know 'e doesn't like folks ta worry." "Yes Sam, I know that as well" the wizard said quietly.

  


Gandalf shook his head, he wondered if these headaches were masking an unwanted vision, if Frodo was trying to keep his daytimes free of the nightmares that haunted his sleep. In years past the Hobbit had experienced a gifting of foresight given to him by the Valar as they sought to prepare his mind for the struggles he'd encounter with the evil of the ring. Gandalf sighed, he knew Frodo to be one very stubborn and strong willed hobbit, for he'd learned how to close his mind to the intrusions of the Valar's visions. This strength of mind had perhaps saved him from a last descent into insanity when the ring was wrested from him. Gandalf quietly thanked Arda for the persistent stubborn nature of this hobbit beside him, but found himself wondering if perhaps the Valar were trying once again to reach out to Frodo. He took the ringbearer's maimed hand in his, the shock of the missing finger tore at him anew each time he beheld it. He stroked the hand, he felt that the missing finger was perhaps a small price to pay for saving Middle Earth. He feared that the finger might not be the only sacrifice the ringbearer would be called upon to make.

  


"Sam" The wizard's voice sounded harsh in the silence that had filled the room and the sandy haired hobbit jumped a bit "Do you think he's trying to hid a vision?" Sam nodded grimly "aye, that I do...and I think it's no good our fussing at him, he wants no others ta know of 'em". "Perhaps not" said Gandalf "but, if it is a vision that needs tending to, the King shall have to know Sam." Sam nodded sadly and looked to the Wizard with worry etched on his brow "I know sir, I jest don't want ta see him feeling any more different than he already is feeling." Sam paused to rest his hand on Frodo's shoulder and looking forlornly at the Wizard said "He's having more trouble than the rest of us, coming back I mean." He hung his head a moment "Sometimes I see 'em looking so lost, so full of darkness and pain...it's like 'e lost his light in Mordor...like all that was joyful in 'em died on Mount Doom that day." Sam choked back a sob "sometimes I think 'e wishes 'e had died that day Gandalf." The wizard watched a tear slowly slide down Sam's still thin and worried face and found himself once more surprised by the intuitive skills of Frodo's faithful servant and friend. 'Why should Sam not know this of Frodo?' he thought and he brought his hand up to squeeze Sam's shoulder, trying to bring him comfort

'there are no two beings more intricately woven into one friendship'. Gandalf turned Sam to look at him "Sam, the ring was a burden none of us can fully understand. The loss of it has brought Frodo, not the release from fear we had all hoped for, but more sensations of loss and perhaps a lost sense of purpose as well. All we can do my friend, is be here to help Frodo find his way in his new life, now that the ring is no longer his task....we must help him find new purpose." Sam nodded, a tear hastily rubbed from his eye. "Good lad Samwise, summon me when he awakens." the Wizard said as he slowly rose from the bed and gave Sam's curls a last comforting touch. "That I will Mr. Gandalf, that I will sir." Sam replied. Gandalf swept from the room, a last glimpse stayed the image in his mind of Sam lifting Frodo's frail hand to his own pale cheek as he gazed in fear and sadness at the master he loved so.

  



	3. Chapter 3: Insights

This story is a sequel to "Gift of the Valar". References will be made in this chapter to events and characters from that story. The characters in this writing are the result of many years of work by the writer J.R.R. Tolkein, and as such are the property of his estate. I respect and admire his works greatly, but am happy to "borrow" the characters and settings he created to let my imagination roam.....

  


Chapter 3: Insights

  


The next morning's sun rose with agonizing slowness. Wispy clouds veiled the early morning skyline as the sun delayed it's decision to appear. The sounds of the street below the window woke Sam from his armchair slumber. He lifted his head from it's awkward position and slowly moved it from side to side to ease his morning stiffness. He rose slowly from the depths of the man sized chair beside his master's bed, not wishing to disturb his ailing friend.

  


To his utter dismay, the bed was empty and a quick glance about the room brought his eyes to rest upon the the frail figure of Frodo sitting upon the cushioned window seat. He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms draped carelessly about his legs as he stared, seemingly without purpose out the window. Sam caught a glimpse of pale, thin legs and furry feet as Frodo shifted his position slightly to wrap the voluminous nightshirt more closely about him. 'Nothing seems ta fit Mr. Frodo' Sam found himself thinking. He enjoyed his stolen moment of observation, barely breathing for fear he'd break his master's reverie. He noted how serene Frodo could seem, when untouched by the scrutiny and concerns of others.

  


A chill filled the air as a fresh morning breeze found it's way into the stillness of the room. Frodo's dark curls moved with the force of the current and his thin shoulders shook a moment with the chill. That was too much for Sam, he quietly stood and taking a coverlet from the bed came to the window and draped it's warmth protectively about Frodo's shoulders. Frodo jumped at the touch and Sam felt the tenseness build in the thin shoulders beneath his capable hands.

  


"Mr. Frodo, ye've not been well sir, I'll catch it but good from Strider if yer sitting here getting a chill whilst I'm snoring away in that there chair" he said as he eyed the comfy armchair and hoped for warmth of the bed nearby. "Come back to yer bed sir, it's a far sight warmer there." He said doing his best to verbally cajole his friend.

  


Frodo turned from his streetward gaze and stared full into Sam's round brown eyes. "How many children do you think have been hurt by the war Sam?" he asked, his words clearly showing he'd heard nothing of Sam's entreaty. "How many children wander the streets of this city, bereft of parents, home and love? " He continued his smooth voice growing stronger and his words more poignant as his need to communicate grew in urgency. "How many children are left to wander, wondering from where their next meal will come, or who will be there to care if they are hurt, or scared....or lonely." Frodo trembled, whether from the chill or the intensity of his words Sam did not know. Sam moved to try and wrap the coverlet more closely about his friend. Frodo shook him off impatiently. "How many carry the weight of the world with a hole in their heart the only feeling they have left to them..." his voice dropped to a whisper "How many are guided only by their pain Sam, lost, lost in their emptiness? How many?"

  


Sam was scared to see Frodo's tremendous blue eyes shine with tears that could not fall. "I...I don't rightly know sir. I'm sure the King has a fair good idea though. Now come on back ta bed sir, ye've been ill again and rest'll do ya good." Sam was firm this time and grasped Frodo's shoulders to guide him to the bed. Frodo shrugged him off once more, "far too many Sam." The sickly hobbit said, as if not hearing Sam's pleading wishes. Frodo dropped the blanket from him and stood up, taking Sam's face in his hands he said "They will fall victims to a great evil, they will be hunted and many will die" he said tonelessly as his hands dropped to his sides his eyes glazed over with pain and he trembled. 

  


Sam was becoming frightened "now Mr. Frodo, come ta bed where it's warm and I'll send for the King, he'll help ya through this...please?" he pleaded. Frodo continued "but who will help the children Sam?" he asked as he reached his hands up to rub his temples, eyes squeezed closed a moment then opening again to reveal an agony so clear Sam gasped "who will help them?" He asked his voice seared with the pain of known loss. He took a step towards Sam and his knees gave way as he fell victim to his grief. Sam caught him as he fell and wrapping him in his arms and the coverlet, carried him to the bed. He reached to the table and rang a bell to summon the hall page to go fetch Gandalf and the King.

  


In moments they were there, their presence filling Sam with the hope that soon his Master's strange actions and words would be explained. Frodo lay on his back, as Sam had placed him, eyes open and unseeing , body trembling despite the growing heat of the day and the many blankets that covered him. Aragorn felt for Frodo's pulse and tried to rouse him from his stupor. "What happened Samwise?" the wizard asked, "more headaches?" 

  


"He didn't let on with words Gandalf, but he rubbed his temples like he'd always done when one 'o the headaches was a coming." Sam shook his head, a puzzled look on his face "He kept asking about children, I don't rightly understand his asking such things, but I told him I'd ask the King." Sam stroked Frodo's cheek gently "afore I could go ask ya, he fell ta my arms and he's 'ere now as ya see 'em." Sam's voice sounded scared "He has not spoken a single word since then, he's jest lying there, staring and not seein' a thing....what's wrong with 'em Strider?".

  


Aragorn sighed. "His heart races and he sees nothing of this world Gandalf." The King's frustration was evident in the way he clenched his jaw as he spoke "we are losing him to the shadows Gandalf, we made the wrong choice at Cormallen." Sam's panic stricken face appeared at Aragorn's side "What choice do ye speak of? What shadows can take him now?" he asked anxiously. Aragorn put a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder as Gandalf began to speak....

  


"Years ago Aragorn, I knew that Frodo was a very special hobbit." Aragorn smiled and started to speak, but was stopped by the commanding voice of the wizard. "I knew because the Valar told me so." Aragorn looked puzzled and he looked to Sam, who nodded his agreement with Gandalf. The Wizard continued to weave his tale "Frodo was chosen by the Valar because they knew, that of all the races upon Middle Earth, Hobbits alone still had the innocence of heart and clarity of spirit to fight the temptations of the ring. They wanted to ensure that they'd chosen the strongest hobbit, the one whose heart would prevail in times of pain and darkness. They looked for, and found, in Frodo Baggins a hobbit of great intelligence, creativity, strength of heart and resiliency, a hobbit who would inspire great deeds and fierce loyalty from those around him. They needed to be sure however, for so much was at stake, that Frodo was indeed 'na amin' or 'the one', so they devised a series of tests. In their wisdom the Valar placed many obstacles in Frodo's path as he grew up. They tested his perseverance, his ability to withstand physical and emotional pain and" the Wizard paused to look sadly at Sam "they severed his bonds of family love, so that there'd be nothing to prevent him from leaving the Shire when the time was right."

  


A sputtering gasp was heard from Sam "Are ye saying that they took his folks?" Gandalf nodded. Sam, standing next to the wizard reached out his small hand to grab at the white cloak Gandalf wore. "They took his folks and then they made Bilbo go away too?" he asked sadly. The wizard took Sam's hand in his "yes Sam, that is what I am saying." the wizard agreed, his eyes showing both great age and sadness in their depths. Sam swayed slightly as another realization came to him and he paled visibly. Aragorn grabbed Sam's shoulder, "easy Sam, here, sit down now." he said as he pulled Sam up beside him where he sat at Frodo's side. Sam continued to stare at Gandalf "yer meaning then Mr. Gandalf that they took her away too?" he whispered brokenly. "Yes Sam, I am afraid so" Gandalf said sighing deeply. Sam sat with both hands covering his face, unable to meet the wizard's gaze.

  


"Gandalf, of whom is Sam speaking?" Aragorn asked. The wizards stared at Sam's sadness and wondered how best to continue with his tale. He continued, as if he'd not heard Aragorn's question, feeling that it was to Sam he owed the explanation. "The Valar knew that Frodo would need special protection to see him through his trials and so they gave to him the gift of foretelling....and they sent me to be his guide until his task was done." Aragorn felt anger rise within him "then you knew what was to happen to him? To all of us?" he said coldly. Gandalf turned his gaze away from Sam to stare at the King and he shook his head "_I_ was not given the gift of foresight Aragorn, Frodo was." The wizard shook his head slowly "Frodo developed great strength of mind over the years and learned to turn away from the visions of the Valar when they ruled his thoughts too greatly, a skill which both helped and hurt him later." 

  


Aragorn, still sitting by Sams side raised his eyebrow and nodded for the Wizard to continue. Gandalf came and sat quietly on the other side of Sam and taking the gardener's small hand in his gnarled grasp continued his tale. "After many painful tests that proved to the Valar that Frodo could endure great physical pain, weather and set to rights social injustice, inspire great loyalty and defend that which he loved, the Valar sent him one last test. Sam's back stiffened and Aragorn sensed his growing anger and tenseness. "Yes Sam" Gandalf continued softly "The Valar sent Chrysanthemum as Frodo's final test." Sam's sharply indrawn breath, closed eyes and balled fists spoke of his inner agony as he whispered "She was not a test....she was his love, a lass that brought him all the joy he deserved...his 'light in dark times' he called her" He turned to Gandalf with tears in his eyes "When she left, he lost his music, the magic that was Frodo changed ...I watched his wonder for the world turn ta hatred...and 'twas only his love of the Shire and his memories of her that gave him the heart fer living." Sam sobbed with his memories of days past refreshed in his eyes he paused and with a catch in his voice asked "didn't ya love 'em Gandalf? How could ya a let that happen?" the sandy haired hobbit asked brokenly.

  


The Wizard's face was etched with deep lines of pain "Oh yes Samwise, I did and still do love your Mr. Frodo very much, but you must understand that this was in fact a duty that was all about love...about Frodo's love of beauty and his desire to save those he loved and the land that he loved from the darkest of evils." Sam grew quiet again as Aragorn continued to sooth him by rubbing his shoulders and they both watched the wizard's face as Gandalf continued.

  


"In answer to your previous question Aragorn, Chrysanthemum was a healer who helped guide Frodo through his recovery after his death." Aragorn and Sam looked questioningly to the Wizard. "Yes Sam, Frodo did die that afternoon from the sledge accident, he did drown despite your valiant attempts to save him." He paused a moment recalling the pain he'd seen that day so long ago and he continued. "The Valar tested his loyalty that day Sam, they offered Frodo the chance to be once more with his parents, to pass into a world with no pain and the joy of his childhood restored." Sam looked puzzled and then crestfallen as his understanding grew. "His other choice was to come back, through the pain and agony of re-birth to be with you Sam. He chose to be with you, he could not bear to see you lose someone else you loved so soon after the death of your mother." Sam nodded and clenched his eyes as he felt his tears start up anew. Gandalf continued, " Frodo's physical recovery was long and painful, his emotional and mental recuperation even more challenging." Gandalf turned to look at the unseeing visage of his friend and brushed a curl from his forehead before he spoke again.

  


"He showed tremendous strength of mind and character as he, with the aid of the lass Chrysanthemum, fought against all odds to bring him back." The Wizard suddenly looked very tired as he admitted "I myself nearly gave up and to this day do not know where he found his strength....through the recovery Frodo and Chrysanthemum fell in love, and while they were young it was deemed that they should become conditionally betrothed upon Frodo's 21st birthday." Aragorn was amazed "Betrothed? So young? Why I had always understood that Hobbits did not come of age until their early thirties." Gandalf nodded and Sam broke in "'tis true, most times Hobbits won't consider marriage 'til both are of age....but in times 'o trouble parents are allowed to pledge the future of their child ta be with another...this started after the great plague killed so many...some families started marrying young ta try and have as many wee ones as possible...'ta ensure there'd be a future fer hobbits" Sam finished rather shamefacedly.

  


Gandalf looked to Sam with a smile lurking beneath his bushy brows "yes Sam, that is exactly why it was enacted....I am afraid however that in this case it did not ensure the future of hobbits" He turned to take Frodo's hand in his "in this case, your Mr. Frodo did that." Aragorn hated to hear the answer to his next question, but knew it needed to be asked, "what happened to his lass Sam?" Sam closed his eyes seeing in his mind the joy and terror of that day so long ago, he was transported to a sunny day, laughter, kissing and Frodo's smile brighter than the sun....then darkness descended and terror, fear and pain were all he could see and feel. He shuddered in remembrance and Aragorn asked again "Sam? What happened to Frodo's Chrysanthemum?"

He turned to the King and the Wizard, all color gone from his face, eyes filled with tears "I can not speak of it now, not with him 'ere...if it pleases ya King Aragorn I'll tell of it when 'e can't hear me." he whispered. Aragorn looked quickly to Gandalf "certainly Sam, when you are ready to tell, I shall be there to listen." Aragorn felt his heart fill with admiration for the strength of the little ones before and beside him as he looked from Sam to the still form of Frodo. Gandalf finished his tale "I am sorry Sam, the Valar had to see Frodo pass this final test, they had to know..." his voice broke a moment and he took a deep breath to continue as he felt Sam's hand upon his cheek . "I understand Gandalf, they had ta know how he'd be with 'em." He said. Gandalf looked with wonder at the insightful hobbit beside him as Aragorn looked puzzled. "They had to know what?" he asked confused. Gandalf waited for Sam to finish and was not disappointed. Sam looked down at his hands a moment and said "They had ta know how he'd be with Stinker....they had ta see that his heart would win over his mind" . Gandalf nodded and squeezed Sam's shoulder "Yes Sam, that was the last test." Gandalf turned to a still puzzled Aragorn "The Valar saw that Bilbo and his pity for Gollum would pave the way for ring to be discovered, but with Frodo it was his compassion that was to stem the tide of evil."

  


The three of them sat on the edge of Frodo's bed, bonded in their silent pain, memories of evil and fear for the one lying so still upon the bed. Each was lost to their own thoughts and images as the shadows of late afternoon shifted amidst the elegant furnishing of the bedchamber. Finally, Gandalf stood to leave and admonished them "Frodo must never know of this, it would break him." Sam and Aragorn nodded wordlessly and the Wizard continued with a heavy hearted sigh "I fear the Valar are not yet through with our friend, it appears he has been appointed one last task. At mornings first light I will awaken him from his trance and help him through the vision he resists so strongly.

  



	4. chapter 4: Visions

  
  


Faces of War

  


Chapter 4: Visions

  


The early morning mists had not yet parted, the sun had barely begun to tease the snowcapped peaks of the distant White Mountains, when Sam felt a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. He slowly turned from his place of slumber to stare into the eyes of the Wizard. "Samwise Gamgee, you will be of no use to Frodo if you fall ill from lack of rest, why did you not seek your own chambers?" The taciturn Wizard asked gruffly. Sam blushed in embarrassment at having been caught sleeping while he had meant to be watching his master and was about to speak when another voice chimed in "Master Gamgee's devotion is to be admired Gandalf" said a voice from the shadows as Aragorn stepped forward....." I requested that he stay, and when last I checked I was the King of Gondor" he said with a smile.

  


Sam heaved a sigh of relief, he still was a mite bit afraid of getting caught on the wrong side of the Wizard's favor, even after all they'd been to one another. Aragorn moved closer to the bed

"how is he Sam? Any change?" The King asked. "No, not that ye'd notice, he's been so still it's like he's turned ta one 'o Mr. Bilbo's trolls". Aragorn smiled at the mention of the elderly hobbit who'd given to Sam his love of tales, his kind and gentle mentoring and his Frodo. Gandalf moved closer to the bed, waiting for the sun to fully appear before attending to his promise of the night before, he lit his pipe and drew upon it thoughtfully a moment. Aragorn turned from his view of Frodo to ask the Wizard "Gandalf, last night you started to speak of something that has troubled me." Gandalf raised one eyebrow waiting for the King to continue. "You said that the skill Frodo'd developed to close his mind to these...these visions helped and hurt him during the quest." The Wizard nodded silently. "How is this so Gandalf?" he asked quietly.

  


Gandalf walked away from the pair standing by Frodo's bedside and stopped by the window to where the sun had just finished bidding the world good day. He shook his head a moment to clear his thoughts. "Frodo's ability to close his mind to the intrusion of these visions, to break with the will of the Valar enabled him to resist to the very last the utter evil of the ring, and kept him from the endless pain of insanity." He turned from his view of the window and made his way back to the bed where he gazed sadly upon it's occupant. "This same ability has also closed his soul to the memories of light and goodness which he needs to help him find his way in this new world, this world which he, the Valar...and Sam" he said as he placed his pipe upon the bedside table, staring at a blushing sandy haired hobbit "have brought to us." Gandalf moved to the side of the bed and bade Sam and Aragorn to move from his view as he made ready to pull Frodo from his trance. He placed one hand upon the pale hobbit's forehead and another just over his heart. As Sam watched, it seemed the room grew painfully quiet, not even his breath could he hear. He felt the energy, the life of the very air around him grow until it seemed all inside him was a tingle. He looked from Gandalf to the face of his dear master and noted how he seemed as still as death, he worried that perhaps there'd be no pulling him back when to his delight he heard a sudden gasp as Frodo's body shuddered in relief of it's release. Gandalf stepped back as he felt his own life force work it's way into the frail hobbit upon the bed. He smiled in satisfaction, Frodo would be with them again, although he knew it would not prove easy for the hobbit, the Wizard knew he had cleared the way for the Valar to once again make clear their wishes.

  


Sam clambered up upon the bed, unable to keep himself any longer from that which he most desired, to be near to Frodo. "Mr. Frodo?" he asked tentatively and watched as dark lashes struggled to lift themselves. Frodo groggily moved his head side to side and exhaled a deep sigh as he fought against the urge to remain hidden by his blanket of sleep. Aragorn, coming to the head of the bed felt the slender neck of the ringbearer and placed his hand then upon his brow. "He is not so cold and his heart has slowed." he reported.

  


Frodo, after several attempts, was able to open his eyes and found himself staring into the misty gaze of his own dear Sam. Glancing about him to the faces in the room he said weakly "Sam, what has happened? Have I been ill?" "Well, in a manner 'o speaking sir, yes, yes ye have....and yer jest now coming back ta yerself, so you rest, rest easy while I get ye some water and tea fer yer dry throat." Frodo nodded weakly as Sam climbed from the bed in search of a cup of water. His body ached and his head throbbed, he was not much inclined to move but he did have questions which needed answering. "Gandalf" he whispered "What happened? Why do I ache so?" The wizard exchanged cautious glances with King as Sam returned with the water and carefully helped Frodo sit up enough to drink. "You've had headaches again have you not ?" the Wizard asked kindly. Frodo winced as he moved to take the cup from Sam's helpful hands, "yes I have" he looked remorsefully to Sam "for quite a while now I'm afraid". He avoided Sam's hurt expression by attending to the water in the cup. He drank deeply and moving the cup from his lips was about to speak when he found the cup falling from his hands as stabbing pain assailed him. With a sharply indrawn breath he reached to massage his temples, but no relief was to be had and he found his eyes starting to water from the intensity of the pain. Sam sought to wipe the water from his master's night shirt as he tried to comfort Frodo in his pain "Shh sir, lie back, Aragorn'll get ya one of his nice draughts ta ease yer pain." 

  


Gandalf moved closer and said soothingly "let it go Frodo". Frodo shook his head, not wanting to lose control, fighting to keep his mind his own. Gandalf continued in a mesmerizing tone "Let it go Frodo, let your mind open to the vision you are hiding." Through his shield of pain Frodo's eyes sought Aragorn's, the King nodded reassuringly and added "I know Frodo, let it go, we will be here." Sam's eyes opened wide with terror as he watched his master succumb to the horrors that sought to invade his mind. With a moan Frodo's most secret thoughts were overcome and he clenched his teeth in a desperate attempt to stem the tide of visions that waited to overwhelm him. His body tensed and he threw his head back while his back muscles tightened and he arched. He saw himself, as if from a distance as his thin frame was thrust one way and then another, the violence of his thoughts fighting to escape the weakened enclosure of his body. He sacrificed himself to the will of the Valar. and his mind opened.....

  


_ He was only aware of pain, jarring bumps causing his body new hurts with each turn of the wheel of the cart. The pain of his body waxed and waned but never left him as there was no easy passage upon the dusty desert path._ _The glare of the sun beat upon him and his body was aware now of not just pain, but the sensation of heat_._ Within seconds his awakening senses brought the sound of more pain to his ears, the cracking of whips and muffled cries of children came to him_.

'_The children' he thought as he struggled against the ropes that bound his hands and tried to sit up_. _He was made dizzy by his attempts to move and reaching awkwardly to his_ _head he felt the sticky reminder of his attempts to resist the will of those that sought to bring him under their sway. With great effort he righted himself enough to see over the edge of the crude cart. He viewed the line of dusty marching children with despair as he saw their tired and sun burdened faces look to his sudden appearance. Their eyes, already saddened by the events that had _

_taken their loved ones, were hollow and empty of any hope. He fought with his own long buried memories of loss and loneliness as he watched the weary children trudge through the unforgiving sand and dry brush of the barren landscape. A sudden disturbance to the side of the cart caused him to sit up further_ _and he watched in horror as one of the marchers collapsed_._ Her small body brought up small puffs of dust as she fell in a faint to the hot sand and rocks , her blond curls coming lose of her kerchief and feathering softly upon her sun reddened cheeks. Another marcher ran with clumsy steps to reach her side but was brought up short of his destination by the cruel crack of a lash_ _which had been cunningly placed about his neck and pulled him back from his goal. A man, rough and cold in his demeanor, stood over the still body of the child in the dust. He used his foot to kick the downed child and with an ugly sneer raised his club....Frodo felt his heart would burst in his fear and anger...."Noooo" he screamed as he scrambled to jump from the side of the cart. He fell to the dust and using the moment of hesitation his scream had bought, ran to the side of the child. He lay himself across her inert body and looked up into the hard and pitiless eyes of the man above him_. "_She is but a child" he whispered "if it is pain you must inflict, then choose me to be your target". The man nodded wordlessly, gestured for the child to be moved to the cart, and turned once more to the hobbit._

_Frodo stared defiantly at the man before him "not the children" he said as the man tied him to the wagon's back "not the children " he repeated to himself as the cart took off, painfully yanking him as he struggled to keep pace with the rope that lead him._

  


Frodo's scream of "nooo" caused Sam to drop all pretense of being a bystander as he frantically hugged and tried to bring Frodo from his vision. The terrified hobbit clung to Sam and clutched his back frantically as he burrowed his head in Sam's shoulder. Frodo's shaking form and wide eyed look of terror and hatred caused Sam to see another time and place where he'd held his master so. He was, for a moment, back in the tower of Cirith Ungol....where he'd found his master. The Frodo he'd held that day was a shaking and empty shell, naked and splattered with blood and filth, crying "noooo" in much the same way. Tears came to his eyes as he clutched the trembling Frodo to him, he turned to Gandalf in anger "Look what ye've done ta him....have ye no pity fer the terrors e's been through?" Sam gently rubbed Frodo's back as he waited for his master's slender hands to cease clutching at his shirt as the frail body slowly ceased it's trembling. Frodo's final gasps were slowing, his breathing evening out and his shudders reduced to occasional hitches as Sam turned his attentions away from his master to snap at Gandalf "Ye've terrified him...what's this done ta help em?" he asked scathingly.

  


Gandalf and Aragorn exchanged glances as Sam gently lowered a slowly calming Frodo to his nest of pillows. "It's helped me to see another great evil Sam" said a quiet and resigned voice as Frodo spoke without opening his eyes as he squeezed the hand of his friend. Frodo opened his eyes and stared a moment, as if not seeing the room the room about him "I must find them" he said. His voice gained strength as he continued "they must be saved." He struggled to sit up and Sam steadied him as he sought to clear his blurry vision to lock eyes with Aragorn. "Who are they Aragorn? Who are these lost children and why does no one seek them?" he asked, a demanding tone to his voice.

  


The King closed his eyes a moment while forming his answer. "They are orphans, the children of refugees and offspring of those who have suffered in the war....children who have been separated from their parents or whose families have perished at the hands of Sauron's armies." Frodo nodded and continued his determined query "what do you know of them?". The King paced the chamber a moment before answering "we know little Frodo, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of such orphans. They are scattered about the city, some we have found jobs for or are being fostered by families here in Minas Tirith, many are unaccounted for." The King shook his head "we will feel the pain of this war for many years Frodo" he said. 

  


Frodo closed his eyes and leaned back into his pillow " they will feel the pain of this war for their whole lives." He was quiet a moment and Sam was hopeful that his master had fallen into a peaceful state of sleep. As Aragorn, Gandalf and Sam looked to the quiet figure upon the bed, Frodo spoke again. "I must find them you know" he said tiredly opening his eyes. "I know my friend" said Aragorn with a nod and a squeeze of Frodo's shoulder "and I must help you." said the King with a heavy heart. 


	5. Chapter 5: Purpose

The Faces of War

Chapter 5: Purpose

  
  


Aragorn gave Sam instructions to administer a light sleeping draught to Frodo, to ensure that his sleep would not be haunted by his earlier terrors, then set off for his private chambers. As he strode through the grey stone passages, the sound of his passing was absorbed by the colorful tapestries that hung upon the walls. His mind was racing with all that needed his attention. As he approached his chambers he tersely gave orders to the pages awaiting him and he entered his rooms. A basin of water was wordlessly provided and he splashed cold water upon his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He groaned as he shook the water from his fatigued eyes, Unbeknownst to the wizard, he too had sat vigil by the bed of the ringbearer. He shrugged off his many layers of exhaustion and went to meet Gandalf in the throne room.

  


The Wizard was awaiting his arrival by the map table in the corner of the room. Aragorn motioned an attendant to bring food and sent for the captain of his guard before turning to speak with Gandalf. "As far as we know, most of the orphan children seem to encamped in pockets about the city....and in some peripheral spots outside the walls." Aragorn pointed to several spots on the map "they seem to be clustered here, here and here " he said as he contemplated the map below him. "There have been reports of smaller roving bands moving about the city, but they've been more difficult to track." The King shook his head wearily "There are so many in such pain from this war Gandalf...so many". The room was silent a moment then Gandalf spoke "have you reports of children missing from the camps?" Aragorn shook his head and looked up into the eyes of the wizard as he said sadly "my men are gathering reports of thousands of refugees Gandalf, it's just not possible to track individuals who have no family searching for them." The King closed his eyes a moment and reopening them said "I have not the men to find those whose loved ones do seek them." His face grew hard and Gandalf could see the pain of many etched in the lines his friend's face "I have not yet heard from all of the outer settlements and I can not right now spare the men to assist me in a tally of the city's orphans." Gandalf looked to Aragorn with a twinkle in his eye "Men no Aragorn.....but perhaps a certain resourceful hobbit could aid you."

  


Aragorn nodded reluctantly "yes, I and see how he might aid us in this, but the outer walls of the city are dangerous Gandalf, many evil and hate filled men roam the the streets of the lower levels." The King walked about the map table, hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back. "I could send Frodo and a small contingency of my tower guard to these spots" he said as he pointed to the 3rd and 4th levels of the city. "He must not go until he is well and he must stay away from the lower levels, most especially the Pellenor fields and the camps by the river." Aragorn looked Gandalf in the eye "There are those that would see harm come to the ringbearer....or who would seek to obtain riches for his return....he must be careful." Gandalf nodded "agreed" he said "I will go and inform Sam of your plan...and warn Sam to be especially vigilant when they are out of the palace." Aragorn sighed and looked to the growing number of advisors and delegates from outer settlements who were gathering to meet with him in the back of the throne room. Gandalf smiled as and as Aragorn turned to speak the wizard said "yes, yes I know....you'd rather deal with the hobbits." Aragorn laughed and he waved the Wizard away as he climbed the dais to set upon his throne and set to right the affairs of the day.

  


The next morning dawned grey with a light curtain of misty rain casting a shroud upon the city. Frodo woke slowly, to the sound of Sam _trying_ to be quiet as he set a tray laden with breakfast foods upon the bedside table with a clatter. The weary hobbit opened one eye to catch Sam frowning and fuming at himself and his clumsiness. He smiled to himself as he opened both eyes and turned to his friend "no harm done Sam, I was awakening anyway" he said as he slowly sat up. "Mayhaps that's so Mr. Frodo, but ye may 'o been seeking a gentler way 'o waking" Sam replied and then continued "well, clumsy or no, I brought ye a breakfast ordered by the King himself." Frodo's face blanched at the thought of food. Sam noticed his master's discomfort and sought to reassure him "now sir, ye 'aven't eaten but barely a'tal in these past days...and yer gonna 'ave ta build up yer strength if yer ta help the King." As Saam spoke he readied the breakfast foods and tried to hand Frodo a dampened towel. Frodo did not extend a hand to take the towel, but asked instead "Samwise Gamgee, what are you speaking of?" he asked suspiciously. Sam set his lips in a stubborn line "wash first, then eat, then answers" he said glaring at his master. Frodo laughed out loud "Well Sam, I can see when I've been bettered my friend...very well, I shall do as you bid." Frodo took the towel and after washing his hands, face and neck to Sam's satisfaction he obediently handed back the towel and readied his stomach for what looked to be an enormous breakfast. Sam eyed his master's pale face with a slight smile, with a flourish he lifted the cover from one of the dishes to reveal a dish of applesauce.

Frodo's worried look changed instantly to a smile "applesauce Sam, why you're a marvel" he exclaimed as he took the dish from Sam's outstretched hand. "How did you know?" Frodo asked, with a mouth full of applesauce. Sam was fair to beaming as he answered smugly "I took it upon meself ta ask a certain Wizard what it was ye'd most enjoyed eating after the time you were down with the pneumonia and yer Aunt Dora was called upon ta nurse ya." Sam looked so pleased with himself that Frodo could not help but laugh "well done Sam...now what's next?" he asked handing the empty dish to Sam. "Well sir, jest a mite bit 'o this here porridge with honey and a wee bit 'o toast....if ye eat this, well I shouldn't be surprised to find Strider dancing his way in here." Frodo was nearly able to finish all on the tray and even surprised Sam by asking for seconds of applesauce. 

  


By the time Sam had helped Frodo through his bath, laid out his clothes and sat him by the window with a blanket, a book and some tea....the loyal servant was fair to beaming. Frodo smiled sadly to himself as he watched the cheerful countenance of his friend and thought 'I really must try harder around Sam, he takes such joy in my wellness'. He sat a moment, the unopened book upon his lap and gazed out the window to the serenity of the garden below. He found it hard to see the beauty of the vision before him as once again his mind filled, unbidden, with images of dust, fire, heat and pain. He rested his forehead in his hand, the maimed hand, as he tried to rub the vision from his mind. Sam paused in his puttering about to observe Frodo's moment of melancholy and was about to go to him when a knock was heard upon the door. Frodo straightened up quickly, hoping that Sam had not observed his sadness, and looked to the door to see Sam letting Aragorn and Gandalf in.

  


The regal pair walked to the frail hobbit "What, out of bed and dressed already?" the King asked impressed. "Splendid work Samwise" the wizard said warmly in agreement. Aragorn wordlessly uncovered the breakfast tray prepared to admonish the thin hobbit, but broke into a smile instead. Frodo began to speak but Aragorn motioned, with his finger to his lips, for him to remain quiet. Aragorn walked to the window and examined his patient, he took his pulse, checked the stitches upon his scalp and palpated his ribs, which caused Frodo to wince only slightly. Aragorn leaned over, placing his hands on either arm of the large chair in which Frodo sat he stared into the big blue eyes before him "now you may speak" he said smiling. Frodo smiled broadly in return and tilting his head to one side said "I have been a model patient, cooperative, cheerful and even hungry for dear Sam....now will you please explain why the three of you are grinning so?"

  


Aragorn stepped back from the smiling hobbit and motioned for Gandalf to bring forth the map of the city he clutched behind his back. Taking the map, he spread it wide upon the floor at Frodo's feet and showed Frodo what he know of the orphans of the city to date. "Now Frodo" the King said as he pointed to the map "I have not the men to keep sufficient tally of these children and I am asking that you assist me." Frodo's face lit up. "But", the King continued "there are conditions." "Yes of course sire" said Frodo as he rolled his eyes, but Sam looked serious. "Now then Mr. Frodo, you'd best be listening...Strider is looking ta yer best interests" Frodo looked shamefaced and humbly replied " I am listening, what would you have me do to help...and under what conditions?" Aragorn looked back to the map and then to the eyes of his friend "Frodo, you are not to travel beyond the 4th level of the city...there are some rough and dangerous men in the levels closer to the fields. You must also take two tower guards with you in your census taking forays, and finally...." Aragorn winked at Sam "finally, you must eat all that Sam tells you to." Frodo scowled a bit at that last condition, but he agreed. "When may I start?" Frodo asked eagerly. Aragorn hesitated a moment, but seeing the light on his friends features said "Will after second breakfast be soon enough?" he asked. Frodo nodded and reached from his chair to grab and squeeze Aragorns hand "Thank you Aragorn....I may yet find a way to help these children who haunt my dreams....and I will rest easier knowing that some may yet be saved."

  


Aragorn nodded wordlessly and walked with Sam and Gandalf to the door, leaving Frodo to once more pursue his dark thoughts as he looked upon the city. "Sam" the King said quietly "I will have the documents you'll need for traveling through the levels ready and with the guards before you leave. You must not let him out of your sight....no matter his schemes" he cautioned.

Sam nodded "He'll not come ta harm with me near ta him Aragorn." Sam said determinedly. Aragorn and Gandalf smiled and left.

  


Sam came back to find Frodo up and rummaging through his clothes. "Sam, have you seen my cloak...the older one?" Frodo asked . Sam frowned "Cloak sir? Why it's summer sir, ye'll not be needing it." Frodo found his cloak and turned to Sam "I know it is summer Sam, but I prefer to travel with some degree of anonymity...the cloak shall give me some privacy." Sam looked upon his master with some degree of suspicion. "Sir, it won't do you no good ta bundle yerself up...the guards walking with ya are sure ta draw some stares I shouldn't think being private is gonna be possible". Frodo nodded "Yes, I thought of that....which is why you shall wear my cloak and I yours....then the guards shall be seen walking with you and I shall trail behind to blend in somewhat with the people about us." Sam did not like the sound of this "Sir, ye promised ta keep ta Aragorns conditions....did ye not?" Sam asked crossly. Frodo nodded "Yes, I said I would travel with the guards, I never said where I'd be walking." Sam shook his head, he did n't like the way Frodo seemed to always have a need to rearrange things. 'Stubborn Baggins' Sam thought as he set off to his room to find his cloak.

  



	6. Chapter 6: Discovery

The Faces of War: 

Chapter 6: Discovery

  


This story is based on the creations of J.R.R. Tolkein, a master of scripted adventures. The following alternate Universe story is based on the character he so carefully crafted. I gain nothing from "borrowing" his characters, except of course the growth of my imagination.

  


This story is a sequel to "Gift of the Valar", also posted here on ff.net.

  
  


After what seemed in Frodo's estimation, a rather large second breakfast, they prepared to leave. Sam smiled to himself, satisfied for once with the food his master'd just consumed 'now that's more like it' he thought to himself as he fastened his cloak...or rather Mr. Frodo's cloak and prepared to leave. The two hobbits and two rather large and serious looking tower guards accompanied them as they left the palace.

  


Sam, much to his discomfort, walked ahead. He was wearing the finely appointed cloak that Aragorn had ordered made for the ringbearer. He twitched uncomfortably, the cloak had been made to keep the frail and often cold ringbearer comfortable and Sam was near to sweltering in it. He shifted his gaze every few steps to be sure that Frodo could still be seen, but after walking through the seventh and sixth levels of the city he found his gaze distracted by the sights around him. He stared, saddened by the sights of destruction and deprivation that were all about him. He tightened his fist in anger as his hatred for the overriding evil of Sauron filled him once more.'They've suffered but good, these folk 'o Aragorn's have a tough road ta travel...no mistake' he found himself thinking 'they've given so much ta this war....when'll it be over fer 'em?' . He snuck another look behind him, only to be waved away by a very observant Frodo.

'I don't like this...I know me gaffer'd have some words fer me right about now...look after 'im Sam ya ninnyhammer....ye know yer not looking after 'em if yer looking _back_ ta him...' Sam's worries about his master filled his mind as they continued their trek through the wounded city of Minas Tirith.

  


Everywhere Frodo looked there were signs of war. His large blue eyes looked out from the plain grey of Sam's cloak, he was glad of it's concealment for he more than once felt a tear slip down his cheek. Wounded soldiers and peoples of the city alike hobbled or limped as they displayed missing limbs or body parts damaged beyond repair. Dirty faced children huddled near to whatever tired and worn looking adult would have them. As they traveled into the camps, Frodo's queries were met with vacant stares, shrugs and an occasional "not ta me knowing young sir" or even the cruel "we could use a few less of 'em here abouts" or " missin' orphans tain't such a bad thing." He was saddened by the coldness he felt from those he spoke to, but knew that all in the city were struggling. As he walked through the camps that Aragorn had managed to set up, the children looked at Sam with wonder, for here they saw a being of worth...one who could travel with the King's guard...wearing finery and looking well fed. Suddenly every last mouthful of his second breakfast felt as if it would spill from him as he realized that he had in fact caused some of the pain he witnessed all about him. Images of days struggling through Mordor, their time in Ilithian, their slow trek through the Emyn Muil...'Why did we not journey with greater haste?' he found himself thinking as a woman in a tattered dress, a babe in her arms...reached to him for help. He stopped and gave her what small coin he had as an idea took shape in his mind 'I have caused this misery...I needed to complete the quest with haste and there in the waste of Mordor I stumbled and staggered, lost to my wretched worries and self doubts.' He shook his head, wanting to deny his role in the pain of those about him, but knowing he could look no farther than himself and his failures, he felt suddenly weary...but knowing that he would have to find the strength to undo what harm he could he forced himself to trudge on. 

  


The procession continued through all four of the top levels of the city, when they came upon a gradual widening in the street and a crowded, bustling market filled with the sounds of people haggling to barter for the paltry goods still to be found in the ravaged city. Frodo took a deep breath and stepped aside to talk with some shop owners. Sam looked, once more, over his shoulder to ensure that his master was still within his sights, but all he saw behind him were shop stalls and haggling vendors. His face went white and he was about to call to the guards when he saw his own plain cloak, and his master walking from a venders stall. Frodo looked up to reassure him and Sam nearly fainted from the relief he felt within him at the sight of those large blue eyes staring at him. Sam took a deep breath and vowed that he'd have no more of this 'sneaking about', he turned to make eye contact with his master and to tell him of his ire.

  


Frodo was discouraged, his queries had brought him no information of use. He was tired and suddenly felt every ache and pain from his most recent encounter with the Valar's visions. He was about to walk ahead to Sam and admit his defeat when through the vastness of the crowd a commotion was growing as a vendors horse drawn cart took off through the crowded street, it's driver absent. Sam, sensing the danger turned to run back to Frodo, only to find his way blocked by the panicked people about him. The crowd cleared for an instant and Sam's heart stopped as he watched Frodo stare to the figure of a little girl, blond curls dipping to cover her face as she bent to retrieve some treasured possession from the ground. The frantic horse was just upon the girl as Sam watched Frodo hurl himself upon the body of the child in the street. 

  


Frodo hit the cobbled street with his back and head coming to rest, none to gently upon the rocks, but the girl grasped protectively upon his stomach. He exhaled forcefully, relieved to hear the sound of the child's cries, "shhhh dearheart, 'tis ok...you've not even a bump I'd wager" he smiled broadly at her and as he sat up the hood of his cloak fell away and he shook his dusty curls. "Is your poppet hurt little one?" he prodded gently looking to the little ones ragged doll. As she stopped crying and turned her face full to him, tears of fear reduced to sniffles. He handed her a handkerchief and froze as the sight of her face flashed before him...._Blond curls released from a kerchief, her body slowly falling and the dust rising about her as she lay under the scorching heat of the noonday sun_...

  


She stared at his blue eyes in wonder and a smile slowly broke across her chubby cheeks as she said "thank ye...ye saved me dolly ye did" and she giggled just as an arm reached down and none to gently yanked her from Frodo's stomach. "Rosetta" the angry boy growled "How many times 'ave I got ta tell ya ta keep close ta me in the Market"....The boys voice was already fading as he rushed the girl away and Frodo heard her say "The nice boy saved me dolly Kylos..." his last view of the girl from his vision was of her torn, scuffed and muddied sandals.

The formidable looking tower guards used their bodies to press through the crowd and soon Sam was kneeling at Frodo's side. The loyal hobbits face was a study of fear, relief and anger as all emotions seemed to be passing upon his face at once. Seeing that his master was just shaken and not truly hurt settled it and Sam's face became the picture of ferocity as his protective instincts gave way to his fear and he allowed himself to voice his anger. He reached down to pull a still staring Frodo to his feet and hearing him wince as his master's sore back suddenly bore the weight of his abruptly upright body, Sam snapped "I shouldn't wonder at yer being sore...gads Frodo, ye could 'a been killed! What're thinking?"

  


Frodo couldn't answer, he could only stare at the spot where he'd last seen the apparition from his vision. He heard Sam's voice, clearly angered and short with him in his fear, but is seemed a sound he could not focus on. His only thoughts were of the girl, 'Rosetta....the children...they are near' was the only cohesive image he could wrap his mind around. Sam finally grabbed the pale hobbit's face in his hands and forced Frodo to look at him " 'ave ye heard nothing I've said?" Sam asked testily. Frodo's wide blue eyes seemed dazed and he tilted his head to one side, as if all had become too much and he could no longer even hold up his head. "The children..." he managed to whisper before he sank slowly to his knees as his burdened body and mind gave in to his fatigue and he fainted. Sam managed to grasp him by the upper arms before he fell completely to the ground "now ye've done it Sir, Strider's like ta have me head fer this" he said as he gestured to the guards to lift and carry Frodo back to the palace. 

  


He woke to find a worried Aragorn leaning over him "am I to find a new census taker then Mr. Baggins?" The King asked and then continued "Sam tells me you've been dodging crazed horses in the market....is this true?" he asked eyebrow raised in his query. Frodo nodded and gently rotated his head about and groaned from the ache of his bruised back and sore head. Aragorn looked at the carefully stretching hobbit before him and grinned "Lucky for you young hobbit you've gotten off with naught but a bump here" he ruffled Frodo's curls "and a few bruises." Frodo grimaced "Yes, lucky me." Aragorns eyes grew serious "Lucky for the little one you saved in the market." He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and leaning forward with his hands on the knees of his royal robes said "just between you and me, Sam is, well shall we say a little exasperated by your behavior today." Frodo looked quite contrite "Dear Sam, it seems I am a source of constant disappointment to him." He looked sadly to his pale hands, rubbing the stump of his missing finger as he contemplated all the things he's done to sadden his friend. Aragorn, taking note of the pain in Frodo's face as he massaged the maimed hand sought to distract him. He stood up, the silk of his ceremonial robes making a soft rustle as he changed positions. "How would you like to rest...by yourself this evening? I shall drag Sam to yet another royal banquet where he may regal you cousins with the tales of your misdeeds before they set off with Gimli in the morning for the outer settlements." Frodo nodded and smiled "Thank you Strider" he sighed "perhaps spewing his evil thoughts of me to Merry and Pippin shall set him in a better mood." Aragorn looked a moment upon the earnest face of the quiet hobbit before him "I think a little time apart would be just the thing for both of you...I'll have a tray sent up". He turned to go, but was stopped by Frodo's last words "Thank you Aragorn, would you please tell Sam I shall sleep in and that I'll eat any vile food he asks of me for second breakfast tomorrow."

Aragorn turned and looking to Frodo laughed " sleep well my friend" he replied and closed the door behind him.

  



	7. Chapter 7: Seeking

Faces of War

  


Chapter 7: Seeking

Authors Note:

This story is based upon the characters of JRR Tolkein, individuals lovingly crafted by a master writer. I hope to present, in this alternate universe story a picture that helps us to understand the pain that forces, even the timid and insecure, to attempt great deeds. This chapter is where the "R" rating comes into play. I struggled with how to present Frodo as a character "set upon" by the forces of evil, sought to describe the ultimate degradation of spirit without dishonoring his strength....I hope that I have presented the scenes in such a way as to build your admiration for his resiliency, without leaving distasteful images in your minds. There will be non-consensual intimate contact and violence in future portions of this story. Please read only what you are comfortable with.

  
  


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Frodo waited until he was certain that Aragorn's footsteps were but a memory upon the smooth hard stones of the hallway, then he climbed out of bed. In moments he had found all he sought and was quickly attired in his most plain hobbit garb. Plain brown breeches, a white broadcloth shirt....one of Sam's he was certain by the size of it upon his thin frame, and a dark blue weskit. He patted his chest, it felt rather odd to be wearing the Mithril shirt again, but he would not disappoint Sam once more by becoming injured in his quest this evening, of that he was determined. He grabbed his elven cloak, the shadowy grey greens blending with the evening shades about him, he cast it about his body. He looked briefly at Sting, in it's scabbard underneath the window, but decided the success of his endeavor lie in stealth, not strength and Sting remained....a silent testimony to his purpose.

  


He looked out his window, a mere eight foot or so drop to the ground below him, he carefully lifted himself upon the windows edge and turning himself about dangled until his feet had a mere 4 or 5 feet to fall until they hit the ground. He let himself fall, hitting the ground with a soft grunt he looked up to the window regretting his need to be dishonest in his actions ' I will find Rosetta's camp by morning, and if all goes as planned I'll be back before any know I've been absent' he thought to himself. As he made his way through the top level of the city, where the palace was located, he felt a twinge of guilt about his deception....but realized that those who knew him best did not fully understand the visions that drove his fears, and he walked on.

  


The evening shadows lengthened as he moved stealthy through the first four levels of the city, past the market where he'd seen the child of his dreams that afternoon. He continued on, the evening sky was dark and cloudless, affording him the opportunity to move swiftly and undetected through the streets of the city. He'd been walking softly, moving from cover to quiet sheltered spot for nearly two hours when he came at last to the lowest level of the city. He lifted his hood and looked once more to the moonless sky. There was little likelihood that many would be about at this hour, but he wanted to take no chances. He thought back to his encounter with Rosetta in the market, he recalled the look of mud and grasses stuck to the bottom of her worn sandals and knew he'd find her in a camp close to the river. The firelight from the distant camps glowed through the many narrow alleys that led from the last structures of the city to the vast expanse of the Pellenor fields and it's wealth of sad hovel filled camps.

  


He looked carefully down the alleys, seeking the quickest and quietest way to the lights in the distance. He carefully avoided alleys which echoed with the sounds of late night drunken revelry, for he knew that bespoke an element of Gondorian society he wanted no part of. He paused at the opening of one narrow alley, hearing no sign of such revelry he moved forward carefully, his cloak tucked tight about him. He moved cautiously, his back pressed to the wall of the alley, as his nose was assailed by the odor of rotting garbage from the nearby taverns and shops, he heard voices and sought to hide in the shadows. "Larks Thad, but that was a comely wench in that last tavern eh?" Frodo pressed himself back tightly against the wall of the alley, not wanting anyone to come between him and his journey to find the girl of his visions, he held his breath and waited. "Nothin' like a plump pair 'o pillows ta rest yer troubles on I allers say" the slurred voice continued "ah but then ther'd be precious little restin' I'm guessing" came the evil snicker. 

  


"Slow up there Thad, I gotta release me waters" the other voice said. "Ah Mendel, do ya suppose ar new King 'as a servant ta hold 'is...'is 'staff' fer this 'ere task?" the other voice said laughing lewdly. "Nah, a King with outta queeen? I 'ear he's gotta a half high at his beck 'n call

fer pleasuring" the voice called Mendel replied. Frodo tried to still his breaths and hoped desperately that the elven cloak, that had covered him so well in Mordor would not fail him now as the voices came ever closer. The one named Thad laughed raucously, " half high, why that'd put 'em at jest the right height fer...." the sound of water hitting the wall near the hobbit filled the air and Frodo ducked down as low as he could. The drunken man slipped in some of the filth of the alley and stumbled over the figure of the quietly slouching hobbit as he groped the wall seeking stability while he tried to keep his feet to fasten his breeches. 

  


"What 'ave we 'ere Mendel? Why I musta had too many, this 'eres a half high" Thad said thickly as he grabbed Frodo's arm and looked him over. "Get a nice look did ye?" he asked eyes narrowing suggestively. "I bet ye ain't seen nothin' so fine at the palace." the drunken man laughed as his friend came to his side. Frodo's eyes were wide with terror as he looked from one face to another "Eh Thad, yer scaring 'im with that ugly thing 'o yers." Medel said laughing then stopped as he saw fully the beauty of Frodo's wide blue eyes and finely chiseled features "eh, 'es a beaut 'e is....look at them eyes." he exclaimed as he bent to look more closely. Frodo tried to collect himself and using his best gentlehobbit voice said "Good evening gentlemen, Frodo Baggins at your service...and your family's" he said quietly as he uttered the traditional Shire greeting of respect and civility. " If you would kindly show me to the riverfront, I am meeting my friends there this evening."

  


"Well, 'ain't we fancy Thad? 'Es as allurin' as any wench, with manners ta boot!" Mendel said. Thad tightened his grip on Frodo's arm. "Come 'ere love, I can help ye meet some new friends." he said as his eyes dwelled on the hobbit's fair features and he ran his other hand suggestively down Frodos' face and neck. "Please sir" Frodo began to explain " I ask only for you aid in finding my way."he said fearfully as he looked about him in panic. There was no one near and these men were near to twice his size it seemed. "Ye liked what ye saw? Didn't ya half high?" Thad leered "would ye like ta see it again?"

  


Frodo felt himself thrust back upon the walls of the dank alley as Thad started to undo his breeches. Mendel came closer "I'll hold 'em first, gads but those lips are making me breeks tight, hurry it will a Thad?" Frodo was paralyzed with fear as the memory of his defilement at the hands of the Orcs came to him. Image after image of pain, abuse and humiliation flashing within his mind. He was once more again facing cold grey stones and animalistic cruelty. He couldn't bear the agony and the emptying of his soul that he knew would soon be his. His blue eyes filled with tears as he tried to plead with the drunken men. "No , please, not this...not again" he said stricken. His pleas fell on deaf ears as the men raucously took their foul pleasures from him.

  


The days light had not yet fully broken the hold of night as a little girl skipped to the opening of the alley. " 'ere's the one I found them taters in yesterday Rumeil...lets look ta this heap" she said pointing to a pile of refuse tossed out by a nearby tavern. She made her way into the alley as a weak cough and quiet voice followed her. Rosetta picked through the garbage, watching with a mixture of curiosity and disgust as several large rats scampered out of her way. She picked through the garbage, placing several promising looking scraps in a cloth bag tied to her waist. A slight lad, with dirty blond hair followed the footsteps of his fair and curly haired sister....pausing every few steps to catch his breath. Rosetta paused a moment in her search for food as she noticed a figure lying near to her in the garbage heap. "Look Rumeil, it's that nice boy who saved me dolly at the market" she said as she pointed to Frodo's still form. He was lying as he'd been left, face down in a pile of rancid garbage and food scraps, hands outstretched in his efforts to crawl away and breeches twisted about his knees with his elven cloak hastily yanked over a portion of his body. Rumeil gasped as he saw the blood pooling beneath him and staining portions of his cloak. 

  


"He's been set upon by those ruffians that 'ave been about the camp these past few days....run Rosetta, go ta get Terren, he'll know what ta do." Rumeil said anxiously as he tried to shield his sister's view of the pale form beneath him. "He's a nice boy Rumeil...why 'twould any want ta hurt him?" she asked confused. "I don't know the answer ta that Rosetta, now get you to Terren, this boy's needing his help! Go now, bring him back right quick, before those ruffians come on back...." he said urgently. With a last backward glance the blond lass ran from the alley to seek help.

  


Rumeil carefully pulled up Frodo's breeches, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the blood and the smell of rotting garbage. He rolled him over to his back and did his best to pull him from the trash heap. Rumeil's slight form could not bear the strain of his efforts and he was soon coughing. He tried once more and in a few moments had Frodo pulled from the trash heap to a cleaner spot in the alley. He wiped a little dirt from the face of the figure before him and marveled at how fair and refined his features were. He stared in the growing daylight and wondered what manner of creature this was at his feet. Frodo's thin and finely sculpted facial features reminded Rumeil of the stories he'd heard of the fair folk. ' e's not a boy from these parts sure enough" he thought to himself , but as he spotted the overly large and hair covered feet, he knew this was not an elf of any sort he'd heard of before. As he was trying to figure what race this boy beneath him belonged to he was interrupted by the arrival of his sister and their friend Terren. Terren approached slowly and knelt down at the hobbit's side as he felt his brow and noted the pattern of blood stains upon his clothing. " 'e's been set upon by them ruffians ain't he?" Terren asked gruffly. "It 'tis a miracle he 'tain't dead already with such abuse." Terren said as he shook his head grimly. "Best ta move 'em back to the camp, 'twon't do no good ta have people nosin' about 'ere after 'em." Terren remarked quietly as he gently slid his hands beneath Frodo's neck and back to lift him. The older man, while a little shaky with his advancing age, had not difficulty lifting the frail hobbit and the four of them headed, under cover of the morning mists from the river, back to the section of the camp they called home.

  


Rumeil held his sister's hand tightly as they made their way through the assortment of tents, lean to's and flimsy shelters that filled this section of the Pellenor fields. He looked about him uneasily, not wanting to attract the attention of others in the camp. He coughed weakly and Rosetta looked up to him, blue eyes wide with worry at the sound of her brother's illness. He ruffled her curls "don't ye be lookin' ta me with them eyes all round with worry little miss...best ye be savin' yer worries fer the boy that saved yer dolly." Rosetta looked up ahead to where Terren was carrying the gently cradled hobbit in his arms "do ye think 'e'll be alright then Rumeil?" She asked fearfully. Rumeil shook his head and shrugged "there 'tis no tellin', but Terren's got a good heart and I hear tell 'e was once a healer in the court 'o the Steward" he said quietly as he tried to reassure his sister. "Really?" Rosetta asked with amazement, "then perhaps 'e can get the King ta 'elp 'im now." she said hopefully. Rumeil smiled "no love, the King's a big man, with big worries from this war, he'd 'ave no time fer the likes 'o us." he said with a gentle smile.

  


They followed Terren down a narrow path through the bushes that led to a potion of the crumbled wall that had once been a portion of the massive ramparts that protected the outer fringes of the city. The massive grey stones had fallen in such a way as to form a small cave that wasn't easily noticed by the casual passer byer. Terren huffed a little as he entered the cave and carefully dropping to one knee he laid Frodo down upon his back. He motioned to Rumeil "I'd not be wanted the little one ta be seein' this lad, send her to the water's edge ta play now will ya?" Terren asked softly as he looked at the sad expression upon Rosetta's face. Rumeil nodded and he backed up a few steps to speak quietly with his sister "Rosetta, Terren tells me that yer lad would feel much better were he ta have some flowers ta look upon when he awakens." Rosetta, a smile breaking upon her worried features said "Oh, dolly and I know where the prettiest stand 'o daisies is Rumeil....my boy shall have them right away." She smiled broadly and skipped out of the cave and down the path to the edge of the River Anduin.

  


Terren, who had been busy setting water to heat over their fire and tearing an old shirt to strips, turned to Rumeil. " 'ere ye go lad, 'elp me with this" he asked as he handed Rumeil a wet rag with which to wipe the dirt from the hobbit's face. Rumeil gently wiped and washed away the dirt and garbage of the alley to reveal fair white skin, some scrapes and a bruise on the hobbit's forehead. "Terren" the boy asked " 'e's not a a boy, nor an elf...what is 'e do ye suppose?" Terren paused in his examination of his patient "'e's a halfling Rumeil, e's one 'o the wee folks that fought in the war with the King." Rumeil stared in awe at the small dimensions of the figure beside him "'e was in the war?" he said in wonder as he stared at the thin frame and delicate features of the dark haired form " a halfling" he said amazed. Just then Frodo rocked his head side to side and clenched his eyes in pain as he moaned. Terren checked his pulse and felt his forehead "Aye, a halfling" Terren sighed "one that's taken a bad beatin'" he said as he started to unbutton Frodo's shirt and weskit. As the elderly healer unbuttoned the coarse white shirt, a glimpse of silver magnificence shone through as the mithrial shirt was revealed. Terren sat back on his heels and slowly reached for Frodo's right hand. The space where his finger should have been was still red and raw looking "'e's not jest a halfling, 'e's the ringbearer" Terren said in amazement. "The what?" Rumeil asked?

  


As Terren gently removed the mithril shirt and washed Frodo's thin and pale body of it's hurts and filth, he told Rumeil the tale of the ring. The sickly boy listened in wonder, coughed weakly and said "'e's a hero....and we folks owe 'im everything" tears came to his eyes as he turned to Terren "look 'ow we repay 'im...look what new 'urts 'e's been given". Terren frowned "yes lad, seems a mite bit unfair it does," he paused and looked seriously to the lad "but then there's not a whole lot about this war that's been fair eh?" Rumeil shook his head 'no'. Terren turned to his patient and with Rumeil's help rolled him gently to his stomach and said "lad, this 'tain't gonna be a pretty sight, 'is wounds are gonna need tendin'...so if ye can't bear ta watch, well nows the time ta go" the healer said gently. Rumeil shook his head "I want ta 'elp 'im Terren." The older man looked to the boys face but a moment to gauge his commitment and finally replied "all right then, hand me them rags and that cup 'o water and herbs by the fire." Rumeil handed both to Terren and watched as broke more herbs into the cup of steaming water.

  


Terren carefully pulled Frodo's breeches down and wiped him clean to see if the bleeding had stopped, it hadn't and the sight of more blood brought a frown to his face. Terren feared that this much blood meant that something inside was torn and he carefully reached under the hobbit to palpate his lower stomach region. He was rewarded with a moan and a hoarsely whispered "no more" as his hands found the region of the hobbits badly inflamed kidneys. Terren soaked the clean rags in a herb infusion and gently placed them in the cleft of the hobbit's buttocks. Frodo moaned louder and tried to move away from the intruding hands. Rumeil stroked the now sweat drenched curls of the halfling and tried to sooth him "Shh sir, it's jest Terren, 'e's trying ta 'elp ya." Frodo opened his eyes weakly, dull with pain his blue eyes still struck Rumeil with their beauty "Sam?" the hobbit whispered brokenly "Sam, it hurts" he whimpered "make them stop" he pleaded and lost consciousness. Terren felt his brow and frowned "fever setting in"...he said as he looked to Rumeil "We'll know in the next day if e's gonna live." 

  


Shire Baggins....thanks for the kind words, I enjoy trying to write the hobbits and their different personalities...and Sam is of course a lot of fun to write! Frodo will have many ups and downs in this story....I must say I am a big fan of your stories...any more coming?

Frodobaggins87...Thanks for your review....I finished GOTV....hope you liked the ending!

aelfgifu...Compared to your RATM story, this has very little angst....but thanks for saying so!

CuriousCat...Thanks for your comments! Sam will have many chances to show his mixed emotions about Frodo's "ways"!

Krista2....thanks...so kind....this is a rather long tale....hope you continue to read!

endymion2...there will many chances for Frodo's resilience and strength of heart to shine through!

  



	8. Chapter 8: Missing

  


This story is based on the original and heroic characters of J.R.R. Tolkein. I admire his work greatly and am profiting only in the "workout" his characters give my imagination!

  


Thanks to any and all who read, enjoy ( or not) and review my stories....have fun as it continues!

  


FrodoBaggins87...our poor, long suffering hobbit does indeed get "attacked" by the ruffians....a necessary link to later painful memories I'm afraid! Thanks for your review of GotV!

  


Iorhael...Our hobbit is actually "middle aged" in the world of hobbits....I hope you'll continue reading...I really am enjoying your latest! I can't compete with you for angst...but I certainly shall try!

  


Endymion2...Ruffians seem drawn to Frodo...perhaps because his inherent "goodness" is something they can only "take" since they have none themselves....The "rescuers" do not send for the King for reasons which will be revealed in the next few chapters....as for anatomy...I, having been on a ski-patrol and having found internal injuries, knew that injuries to spleen, liver etc would be assessed by palpating quadrants of the abdomen....while the Kidneys are located "further back"...I guess the referred pain would be found in an examination of the abdomen...I, obviously, am not a Doctor and just want my details to seem "plausible"...please keep after me though, I need to think these things out!

  


Read on.....

  
  
  
  


Faces of War: Chapter 8

Missing

  


Sam approached his master's chamber quietly, it was a bit earlier than elevensies, but he just could n't wait any longer. 'Mister Frodo's been through it all 'e 'as....I 'ad no call ta be grumpin' at 'im as I was yesterday' Sam thought to himself as he got closer to the door of Frodo's chambers. He felt terrible about his outburst and after explaining his aggravation to Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin at the banquet last night, he felt even worse. ' Mr. Merry's right as rain in his thinking...Mister Frodo's jest tired a bein' fussed at...'e's jest wantin' ta do 'is share ta help....as we all are" as Sam rounded the corner and drew closer to Frodo's door he thought ' e never wants ta be a bother...wants ta be left in some peace and quiet I expect...well, if it's quiet e's wanting....'is Sam can near ta disappear I can be so quiet....like with the ring' he found himself thinking, then shuddered at the images that evil piece of jewelry conjured up. His footsteps quickened, he was anxious to make his peace with his master. 

  


As the door to Frodo's chamber came into view, Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously, for Frodo's dinner and breakfast tray lay untouched outside his master's door. 'I knew it" he said to himself ' e's gone and got 'imself sick again....the events of the market were jest too much fer 'im. All Sam's previous resolutions fled from his mind as he burst through his master's door ready to give him a piece of his frazzled hobbit mind.

  


"Now see 'ere Mr. Frodo" he said as he strode purposefully into the silent chamber"Mr. Frodo?" He looked around puzzled, Frodo was nowhere to be seen, his bed was made...in his somewhat careless fashion, and his nightshirt had not even been slept in. A moment of panic took him as a quick search of his master's belongings showed that his plain clothes, cloak and mithril shirt were gone. With a sinking feeling in his stomach he turned to the spot by the window that held his master's sward and noticed with growing fear that Sting was still there....leaning awkwardly in it's scabbard. 'Great stars of the Valar, 'e's gone ta find that lass from the market 'e 'as" he thought as he ran to get the king.

  


As the day wore on, Terren became more and more worried. Frodo's fever grew and his delirium started. Terren struggled to get the hobbit to drink, knowing that keeping fluids washing through his ailing body would help reduce the build up of blood poisons from his damaged kidneys. After angling the hobbit in such a way to help him swallow, Terren managed to be proficient enough in this act to get Frodo to drink three cups of water in the 4 or 5 hours he'd been there with them. He knew that soon the ill Hobbit would need to empty his waters and he gestured to Ramble to bring the privy pot. He positioned it and in moments Terren was restraining a wildly flailing Hobbit as Frodo's pain drove him to the brink and he screamed. Terren did his best to make the sick hobbit comfortable but one look in the privy pot confirmed his fears. There was blood in his waters and Terren knew that this meant high fever and debilitating pain would not be too far behind.

  


Rumeil came closer and tried to sooth the stricken Hobbit with cool compresses to his forehead. "What is it Terren? Why did e yelp when ye had im pass his waters?" the boy asked concern crinkling his brow. Terren frowned "there's blood in 'is waters...e's been 'urt on the inside and he tis bleeding'" the healer sighed as he looked through his herbs "I've none 'o the greens I'm needing to promote blood strengthening." Just then an exuberant Rosetta came to the cave entrance, with an armful of bright yellow dandelions. Terren's frown changed to a smile "leastways I didn't till a moment ago....good lass...can ye find Terren more jest like these?" He said gently to the smiling five year old. "Oh yes, dolly and I know where there are lots 'o daisies Terren". Ramble shook his head and started to correct his sister's name for the flower in her hand but a quick squeeze from Terren's hand stopped him. "There's a good lass, now ye run ta find as many as ye can....and bring yer brother back from the slag heap when ye return." Terren suggested. " Oh aye" said Rosetta and then pausing to look to the silent figure on the ground she asked "how is 'e Terren? Did them ruffians hurt 'im real bad?" she asked lower lip starting to tremble. Terren knelt in front of her "e's taken some bad hurts lass, but yer Terren has a few tricks up 'is sleeve, don't ye be worrying now....off with ye" With a last look at Frodo, Rosetta skipped back out into the sunshine from the damp cool confines of their cave.

  


Terren took up the batch of flowers that Rosetta'd left and he quickly separated the stems and leaves from the flowers. He set the water pot above their fire and set to stewing the dandelion greens with a mixture of marigolds and coneflowers. As the infusion was steeping he carefully changed the dressings on Frodo's wounds, happy to see that the bleeding was at least slowing from the abraded area. He poured the infusion to a mug and let it cool a bit as he positioned Rumeil and rolled the Hobbit from his front to his back. Carefully pulling Frodo to a seated position leaning into Rumeil's arms he held the cooled mug to the pale and sweating hobbit's lips. Frodo drank slowly, head lolling weakly, eyes not opened and whispered "Thank you

Sam". He was instantly asleep again as Terren gently re-positioned him on his stomach. "We'll need ta keep 'is backside up ta try and slow the bleeding' " Terren explained as Rumeil watched his ministrations. Rumeil nodded slowly, then looking thoughtfully at the halfling asked "who do ye suppose Sam is then?" Terren paused before answering "I don't know fer sure, but the King is rumored ta have four halflings with 'em....I'd guess that Sam is his friend...or perhaps his kin." 

  


A little while later Rosetta was back, with another armful of "daisies" that she handed to Terren for him to use in the strengthening of his infusion. Right behind her was Kylos "See Kylos, there's the nice boy who saved me dolly" she said pointing to Frodo while a smile played upon her face. Kylos scowled and turned to Terren, " e's the King's halfling" he said tersely "the other slag boys at the outer wall are saying the King's sending out search parties throughout the city ta find 'em". Terren nodded and leaving Frodo's side a moment walked to Kylos "e's not jest a halfling Kylos, e's the Ringbearer...and if we move 'em now 'e'll die and we'll all pay for the King's displeasure." Kylos stared, lips set in a thin hard line, at the pale and fragile form lying motionless upon his blankets in his cave and he asked "if 'e gets well in out care?" Terren sighed, knowing how Kylos' mind worked and he replied "If e's made well and is able ta tell 'is side 'o the story....then I should think the King'd show us 'is pleasure instead." Kylos looked from the hobbit to Terren and allowed his gaze to wander the dank inside of the cave they called home "then we make 'im well" he said stonily and he left.

  


Kylos set out from the camp with a frown, he'd heard the boys toiling at the outer wall, the "slag boys" who toiled from sun up to dusk, earning mere coppers for the task of clearing the debris left by the war. He'd heard them tell their tales of the Palace, the comforts, the food, the warmth and security that he could only dream of. He clenched his fists and furrowed his brow in anger, since Saurman's rampaging armies had raided his family's farm, it'd been nothing but bone wearying hardship. He closed his eyes a moment and heard again the voice of his Da as the screams of frightened livestock and commotion of frantic villagers filled the air "yer my eldest Kylos, make me proud boy...take yer brother and sister ta the hills and don't come back till we

send fer ye". His Ma and Da never came, and finally forced to come home when the food ran out, he'd found the bodies. He became a man that day.....and as he'd buried his parents and dug through the wreckage of their home to find any salvageable items, his heart hardened and he assumed the mantle of guardian as he, five year old Rosetta and 8 year old Rumeil joined the thousands of refugees streaming towards the city. Their trek had taken weeks, weeks of little food and no shelter...but the refugees had walked,old, young, injured and dying they walked in a dazed and broken state, hundreds of them arrived each day at the City of the Tower Guard. Minas Tirith, they had hoped for salvation here, had held in their hearts the belief that their King would help them, but there were just too many, too many and life in the camp was not much better than life on the road had been. Kylos continued walking as he reflected on the past months, his own thin frame had strengthened under the strain of work in the slag heaps and he was grateful for his health. He shook his head as he thought of Rumeil, his brother, the dreamer, the artist, the one who'd suffered most from their trials. He'd become sick as soon as they'd entered the city...'tis a bit of good luck that I found Terren when I did' he thought, and he recalled all the elderly healer had done to help when Rumeil came down with the lung sickness. Kylos, as grateful as he was to Terren for his help, would not relinquish his job as guardian,would not allow the healer to help with food or supplies, he made it his responsibility to work and find food for the family, he _would_ make his Da proud.... he stared at the coopers in his hand. A day's wage, money enough to feed three for two meals at best....well, he would stretch it to cover the five mouths at camp. He scowled and made his weary feet travel to 3 different markets to find the provisions he could afford to buy, or found a chance to beg.

  


Aragorn slammed his hand down on the map table as Faramir and Legolas both started in response to the abruptness of the noise. Gandalf looked up from under his bushy eyebrows to admonish the King "anger will not lead us to him Aragorn." Aragorns hardened features twisted into a scowl " I show only my anger at my own foolishness, I can not forgive myself for underestimating the stubbornness of the ringbearer." A quiet and soothing voice at his side said "were it not for that stubbornness Aragorn, your worries today would not trouble you." Legolas said wisely. Faramir lifted his head from his contemplation of the map before him "Master Gamgee said that Frodo's confrontation in the market happened here" he said as he pointed to a spot on the map and then continued "and yet you said the established camps were to be found mostly here...at these levels close to the outer wall." "Yes, yes....and Frodo did not go past these levels during his expedition yesterday, so would not know of the other camps." Aragorn said through clenched teeth. Faramir shook his head and boldly added "you underestimate him sire, against the greatest of all enemies he made it through to Mordor, do you not think he could make it to the lower levels of the city?" Aragorn nodded grimly "yes I do, and that is precisely what I fear most. The worst elements of Gondorian society have taken up residence in the areas closest to the ruins of the outer wall." He paused to look over the map once more then to Faramir "all in the city know of the high regard in which the hobbits are held....the ringbearer most of all, and there are those who do not feel Gondor's resources should be given so freely to people not of this region, they resent the hobbits....and I fear that Frodo may have been taken by those who would demand riches for his return. We may continue to search gentleman, but tis a fools hope that he'll be found while money is to be had by his safe return." Aragorn stared numbly at the map before him. Gandalf placed a comforting hand upon the King's shoulder "and what of Samwise? How is he taking this?" the wizard gently asked. Aragorn smiled sadly "after treating me to a variety of the names he felt his gaffer would choose to call him by, he retreated to the kitchens to spread word among the servants, that they in turn may solicit the aid of their families. " The king ran his hands through his unruly brown locks and furrowed his brow " I feel powerless in a way that even Sauron could not have made me....for now I do not even know whom to fight."


	9. chapter 9: Discovery

Faces of War

Chapter 9: Discovering

  


Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the creations of J.R.R. Tolkein, I gain nothing from my adventures with his creations.....except the chance to have some fun!

  


Shire Baggins.....Yes, it seems the people taking care of Frodo would be well served to notify the King....but there is a mystery lurking towards the end of this chapter that will explain their rationale for Frodo's seclusion! 

  


Iorhael....Thanks for your compliments....I do enjoy "angst" as well....and I like to create new characters to interact with the creations of J.R.R....it's a real "stretch" for me to try new types of dialogs and descriptions.....I would like to work on expanding my use of descriptors which portray the environment within which the story takes place....next story I guess!

  
  
  


The warmth of the night gave way to an pre-dawn drizzle, leaving a heavy and tired feeling in the air as the refugee camp woke up. Terren had spent the night sitting by his patient as the three orphans slept nearby. The close quarters of the camp allowed for very little privacy and he had struggled to minister to his patient as quietly as he could through the night. He regretted that his attempts to provide care for the ailing Hobbit caused him more pain, for as the teas and infusions he managed to get Frodo to drink accumulated, and the need to pass water became apparent, the halfings pain was nearly unbearable. He had found, after one such episode, that in order to quiet the Hobbit he'd had to gag him, the only way in which his arms could be free to still and soothe the pain wracked thrashings of his feverish patient. At one point, Rumeil had awakened and had wordlessly held Frodo in his arms, and after his need to pass water was finished Rumeil had quietly wiped the sweat from the pale brow of the Ringbearer and sung quietly to ease him back to his troubled sleep while Terren prepared more draughts of carefully steeped herbs. This went on all night, and with the exception of a brief respite from Rumeil, Terren had cared for Frodo alone. The elderly healer was exhausted and worried that if Frodo did not show signs of improving soon, that he would have to seek the help of the palace. He paled at the prospect of revealing himself to the authority of the city and worried about what would happen to the children of the camp if he were taken from them.

  


As morning came, Terren noticed that his patients pain and restlessness seemed to be lessening, and as he checked once more the dressing that stopped the bleeding, he saw to his great relief that the bleeding had stopped. He changed the dressing once more and very gently rolled Frodo to his back, he was pleased to note that his forehead seemed cooler. He grabbed the Hobbit's slender hand and sought to find his pulse and was startled when he felt his patient grasp him in return. "You are not Sam" a whispered and lilting voice, heavy with pain and fatigue murmured. Terren looked to his patient's face and noted how the Halfling was struggling to open his eyes. "No sir" he replied "I'm not, I'm Terren, a healer in the camp" he said softly in reply. Frodo licked his dry lips wearily "and a very skilled one" he whispered "thank you for your kindness." Terren nodded as he looked down to the pale face below him, where Frodo clenched his eyes in pain as he tried top lift his head and open his eyes "easy there sir" Terren said soothingly " 'tis I should be thanking _you_ after yer help at the Market, why with out you I don't know what woulda become of our Rosetta....'tis a wonder you were so quick". Frodo managed at last to open his eyes and he stared in wonder at the healer beside him "she is all right then?" he asked worriedly "She was not harmed in any way?" he asked once more. Terren stared in astonishment at the clear beauty of the wide blue eyes, enormous eyes whose color lit up the features of the pale face and were in stark contrast to his dark and matted curls. The healer tried not to stare, but he'd never seen a face so fair, so gentle....nor a gaze so intense. "No Sir" Terren finally managed to whisper in return. Frodo closed his eyes, relief evident in the relaxing of the lines of worry that had formed about his eyes. "I was on my way to here to check upon her...." Frodo looked to Terren "I needed to know...." he paused once more to lick his dry lips and his voice grew raspy " that she was not harmed, that she was..." Frodo coughed weakly and Terren held out a cup of water which the Hobbit accepted and sipped from.."safe" he finished. "That she is Sir, thanks ta you...now how are you faring after....after yer time with the ruffians?" Terren finished delicately.

  


Frodo paled and clenched his eyes closed as a chill seemed to run through him, he trembled at the memory of his abuse, a silent tear coursing down his thin cheek. "Sir?" Terren asked "I mean ya no disrespect, but as a healer I need ta know of yer pains" he finished gently. Frodo nodded slowly and turned his head away from the healer to examine the ceiling above him " I shall survive to defeat the lust of animals once again it would seem." Frodo said in a sad and quiet voice. Terren wondered at the 'once again' portion of the hobbit's reply, but chose not to pursue it as he continued to check on the health of his patient. "Here sir, ye must keep drinking these infusions to aid yer insides as they heal from yer bleeding." Frodo sighed heavily at the mention of 'drinking', he turned his gaze to the healers face and whispered brokenly "I am so shamed by all that you've had to see, and all that you've done to help me. " he paused to take a deep breath, to steady himself "it seems I must be reduced once more, for with all your infusions I sorely need to pass water and I know how it will pain me." Frodo paused as he looked about at the sleeping figures around him, his gaze lingering upon the blond curls all but buried under a thin blanket. "Do you have something that I may bite upon to take the edge from the pain?" Terren looked about and came up with a folded rag, he placed it in the hobbits mouth and Frodo gestured that he was ready. Terren rolled Frodo to his side, sat him up a bit and slid the privy pot under the blanket to afford the Hobbit what privacy he could. The weary Hobbit bit down upon the cloth, tears coming to his eyes as he clenched his teeth in his agony. As the pain of his efforts faded he shuddered and collapsed weakly against the healer, eyes closed and his breaths coming in little ragged gasps as Terren examined the contents of the pot. The healer smiled and squeezed the hobbit's shoulder reassuringly " 'tis the best yet Sir, yer on the mend. Frodo smiled weakly and attempted to push himself up to his elbows, but still weakened from his fever, he collapsed and stared at Terren . "I think that under the circumstances, we'd best dispense with the 'Sir'....I am called Frodo, Frodo Baggins, Hobbit of the Shire." Terren smiled warmly in return "it 'tis an honor Sir, eh I mean Frodo. I am called Terren and these are Rosetta, Rumeil and Kylos....orphans of the great war." Frodo nodded slowly, a great weariness overcoming him, he said " I know them from my dreams"he whispered as he fell prey once more to his fevered body's need for sleep. Terren stared hard at the Hobbit beside him ' he is gifted with the sight of the future' he thought to himself as he waited for the children to wake and start their day.

Sam wandered once again towards the kitchens of the palace. His mind was lost to self recrimination and he berated himself once again for his words with Frodo after the incident at the market. ' Samwise', he thought to himself 'if ye'd only stopped and tried ta see his troubles, asked him about what he saw in his mind...ye'd not be missin' now I'd wager'. He leaned weakly against the wall, his worries making his legs tremble 'I am every bit the ninnyhammer the Gaffer says I am.' He pursed his lips and hardened his expression as he continued on his way ' think Samwise, think....there must be somethin' yer missin' '. As he entered the kitchen he shook his head ' 'tis no good, me heads never been the best part 'o me'. 

  


His sad countenance drew the attention of Jana, the cheerful scullery maid. "No long faces in 'ere Master Samwise" she said as she guided him to a bench by the enormous hearth. "I been thinking" the maid continued "on what ye asked us yesterday and I talked over yer notions with me Ma...and she told me where me Grand Da is!" Sam looked to the red cheeked maid with a puzzled expression " 'tis a nice tale ta hear I'm sure Jana, its jest that I don't have the heart right now ta listen ta the tales 'o others when my Mr. Frodo is missin'." The Hobbit said sadly as he looked at his hands. Jana grabbed his hand as she urged him to listen "now Master Samwise, ye need ta listen, mayhap this tale will help ya find yer Mr. Frodo. Sam was suddenly attentive and he squeezed the maids hand back as he urged her to tell her tale, a look of hope shining in his warm brown eyes.

  


Jana began, "me Ma never told me of where me Grand Da went after the Steward forced him from his job as a healer. Ya see he was a skilled man of herbs and a healer ta the Steward until he voiced his thoughts on a treatment Lord Denethor wanted fer his son Faramir at the beginning 'o the war." She looked around carefully, not wanting the others in the kitchen to know her family secrets, when she was satisfied that none were listening, she continued. "When the Lord Faramir returned ta the city after his time in Ithilien, after he'd a met up with you and Master Frodo, Lord Denethor ordered me Grand Da ta to prepare a draught 'o herbs that'd loosen Faramir's tongue and allow the Steward ta get some information from him. Well, 'e ordered the draught put in ta Lord Faramir's wine at dinner that night." Sam was aghast "ye mean he'd drug 'is own son ta seek his wicked truths?" Jana nodded sadly " 'twas after the death 'o Lord Boromir when the Steward became so fixed on findin' some way 'o winning the war 'e knew ta be coming....Lord Denethor had a fair mean temper, so me Grand Da didn't want ta aid the Steward in what he knew ta be wrong....but he didn't want ta anger the Steward neither." She said, sorrow etched in her brow. "What did 'e do then?" Sam asked anxiously. Jana leaned in close to Sam's ear " 'e lied 'e did...'e pretended ta put somethin' into Lord Faramir's drink, but 'e didn't really...and ta finish me tale, the Steward was right angry when he found out and he had me Grand Da banished from the city...not allowin' any ta have contact with under pain 'o death." Sam furrowed his brow and said angrily "then ya weren't allowed ta see 'im?" Jana shook her head and sighed "no sir, me Ma even went so far as ta tellin' me he'd been sent ta the battles....and since we 'adn't heard from 'im we thought 'e'd died." Sam looked at her face carefully, looking for signs of grief, and he asked tentatively " 'e isn't dead is he?". Jana smiled and continued triumphantly "after yer talk with us 'ere in the kitchen I went and talked with me Ma...and she, well she 'ad jest found out from a boy name 'o Kylos that her Da was alive, and'e's a healer in the refugee camps down ta the river." 

  


Sam jumped up and grabbed both of the maids hands and kissed 'em in his joy. He was about to run to the King when Jana stopped him, a sad look upon her ruddy cheeks "Master Samwise, the King'll 'ave ta pardon 'im...ta take back the orders 'o banishment and such fer ye ta find 'im...or 'e'll stay hidden in the camps." Sam grinned, "I know this King 'tis a forgivin' sort...rest yer worries Jana" he said as he turned to run from the room. He was stopped once more by the scullery maid "don't ye want ta know 'is name then?" she asked with a hint of laughter in her voice. Sam stopped suddenly and slapped himself upon his forehead to remind himself of his stupidity. " Aye lass" he said, exasperation evident in his voice "what's 'is name then?" Jana smiled as she replied "Terren" she said "his name is Terren".


	10. Chapter 10: Disguising

Disclaimer: The characters and original story line is, of course, the property of J.R.R Tolkein....a master story teller....I thank him for the many ways his characters have enriched my life and the lives of children around the world. I, will gain nothing from my explorative wanderings with his characters....except a chance to stretch my own paltry imagination!

  
  


To all who have read...and continue to hold on to the fragile hope that this story will entertain and become in some way meaningful to you....thank you! This is the third story in a three part series.....the second part is "gift of the Valar"...the first part is being roughed out as "Faces of War" is being concluded ( in other words...it has not yet been started in final draft form here on FF.net) This portion of the story will take Frodo, Aragorn, Sam....the Hobbits...all of the Fellowship and even the AU character Chrysanthemum through some serious angst, questions of purpose and intent.....while they struggle to make some sense of the ultimate 'function' of war in society.....have fun...relate events as you 'see' them, to events of your own lives...or to the happenings of a society that in many ways is not so unlike that of Middle Earth....

  


Endymion2.....Terren cannot notify the King because he is under pain of banishment from the house of the Steward...which has been in the place of the line of Kings for 26 generations...waiting for the King to return....so his word was LAW....the citizens of Gondor were still uncertain of the heart and intent of the new King and responded with great fear and respect to edicts passed by the ruling house of Stewards. Besides...the citizens of Minas Tirith knew that the Steward was a mite unpredictable.....

  


Frodo Baggins87...thanks for keeping up with the story...I hope you'll continue to keep up with it....I have many twists and turns for all of the characters of the Fellowship....and I try to portray the characters in the light that they've been given....ie Aragorn as noble and conflicted....Gandalf as wise and yet, not all powerful, Sam as protective, loving, in awe of....and yet not quite ready to believe that his master has the sense he needs to make it through a day unharmed.....enjoy!

  
  
  
  


Faces of War

  


Chapter 10: Disguising 

  


As the day wore on, and his fever began to abate, Frodo found himself able to stay awake for longer and longer periods of time. Terren managed to keep him hydrated and even enticed the ailing Hobbit to eat some of their hard earned porridge. Rosetta stared from across the small cave like enclosure to the pale and weak lad who'd saved her at the market. She listened as he spoke with Terren, his soft spoken words and lilting accent strange and wonderful to her ears. She peeked at his fine features and was drawn to the intense sadness that lay behind the wide expanse of summer sky blue that was his eyes. She closed her own eyes and imagined that he was a lost prince from a far away Kingdom and that she would be a Princess to help him find his way home. She sighed, rather loudly to the annoyance of Rumeil who was sitting quietly by her side. She thought he was the most wonderful thing she'd ever seen, so fair and kind, so soft spoken and well mannered. She looked down at her grubby hands and torn frock, felt her plain ears and watched her sandaled feet with disappointment in her eyes. She longed to go be near to him, but Rumeil had asked her to keep to her place...he'd told her that the lad was the 'ringbearer', and while she didn't know what that was exactly, she knew from looking at him that it had to be something important.

  


Frodo, with some help from Terren, found himself sitting up upon one elbow and drinking yet another infusion when he caught a flash of yellow curls and bright blue eyes looking at him. He cocked his head to one side and asked quietly of the healer "When I am I to be deemed well enough to thank the other members of your camp for all they have done to aid me?" Terren smiled gently, "I never thought ye'd ask sir, they've been wanting to meet ya.".

  


The still weakened Hobbit could not help but smile, he felt such relief that this child before him, the girl of his vision was unharmed. "Please introduce us Terren, I owe them my thanks" he said quietly. Terren turned to the two children and beckoned that they should come to his side. Rumeil looked back in surprise and hesitated, but Rosetta was there in a flash, staring in wide eyed fascination at the lad lying beside Terren. "Now Rosetta, child, ye must give 'em some room to breathe" he laughed as she wiggled closer and closer to Frodo. Frodo laughed, a small tired laugh, but a laugh that sounded like music to the ears of the orphan children. Terren smiled and continued "this is Sir...er rather Frodo...he's a friend to the King". Frodo looked gently upon the children and was about to speak when Rosetta burst in " Oh Sir Frodo, you are like somethin' outta a tale from around the campfire....are you an elf? I hear the fair folk have yer ears....but yer feet are not as mine...did you have an accident with yer feet Sir Frodo?" Rosetta's words, pent up for so long, came tumbling out. Frodo stared, rather at a loss for words in the midst of all of hers, so she continued "Are you a prince in your country? Rumeil says yer a 'ringbearer'...that sounds important...do you have a Princess of yer own yet?" Terren stared in astonishment at the curly blond head beside him " I'm sorry Sir...er rather Frodo, she's not had much by the way of company and she is a bit excited fer adventures." Frodo looked a little bewildered, but he struggled to sit up more, and with a grimace of pain, succeeded. 

  


" 'Tis all right Terren, I myself have not had such charming company in a long time. I shall answer her questions as best I can." Frodo took a deep breath and looked to the unquenchable

excitement in Rosetta's eyes. " Well, I am not an elf, for I am far too short...in my land we are called 'Hobbits'....and no, I am not a Prince in my land fair one...." He paused to quirk an eyebrow at her "though if I were, I should gladly welcome you as my Princess...for you are as charming and full of light as the lady Arwin herself." Rosetta sighed deeply " The lady Arwin is said ta be the betrothed of the new King....do ya know her Sir Frodo?" 

  


"That I do my Princess, she is as fair as the stars that light the velvet depths of the night sky..." Frodo paused a moment as he recalled the warmth and grace that was Arwin Undomiel.. Rosetta stared, entranced by the words and the vision that Frodo words could bring. She continued her questions "how did she become a Princess? Is she magic? Why are you so like a child and yet ye speak with words as a grown up?". Frodo smiled "one question at a time...well Arwin is a Princess because she is the daughter of the lord of the Elves of Rivendell...yes, she has a special magic...all elves do...and the last question?" Frodo's voice trailed off in uncertainty "Oh yes," he said as he recalled her last query " I am the size of some of the children of Gondor, because this is as big as we get....while I am considered a mite thin for a Hobbit, I am actually rather tall for creatures of my race....and " he finished his last sentence with grin " I speak as an adult because I am one, I am nearly 51 years old ." Frodo had to lean back down on one elbow again as his last discourse had tired him somewhat. He turned his eyes to Rumeil, who'd been listening to the exchange between the ringbearer and his sister with amazement "Thank you Rumeil, for all 

you've done to help me" the Hobbit swallowed bravely " I am not always welcome in the way I would wish in the world of men...." his face went a little pale as he recalled his past two days "yet because of you and Terren and the Princess here" he paused to stare with kind eyes to Rosetta " I have faith that there is far more good than evil in your city, thank you lad" Frodo said as he laid his head back down upon his pillow to rest. " Oh Sir, ye've done so much ta help us all....I...I think yer a hero as big as any mighty warrior ...or even the King himself" Rumeil finished bravely. A cloud seemed to pass over Frodo's face...a dark moment of doubt and guilt...but was soon gone and the Hobbit smiled gently, a light shining in his eyes, to the thin boy beside him. 

  


"Heros come in many shapes and sizes Rumeil...but any who have love and a dream can be a hero...you will see" Frodo's voice trailed off and he closed his eyes a moment. Terren was about to wave the children away, when Frodo asked, eyes still closed "What of your brother Kylos? Why is he not here?" Rumeil answered "He works with the slag boys, clearing the debris o' the war from the outer wall o' the city....he earns what we need ta keep us." Frodo opened his eyes and stared intently at Rumeil "Your brother is young for such labor," the tired Hobbit sighed and said quietly " this war has spared no one it would seem." Terren looked to the two children and waved them out of the enclosure, as he set to giving Frodo another infusion of herbs to lessen his discomfort. As Frodo was about to sit up to take the offered draught, he reached to Terren's arm 

" I am nearly well enough to travel....I am sorry for the hardships you've suffered here, please let me take you back to the palace, the King will be grateful for my return and will show his gratitude in any way you ask." Frodo's big blue eyes looked with great intensity upon the face of the healer. A frown swiftly passed over Terren's features, a fact not lost upon the sick Hobbit. "Terren, what is wrong?" Frodo asked.

Terren sighed " I am under banishment from the houses of healing, and edict passed by the late Steward prohibits those under banishment from returning g to their former lives....under pain of death" he finished in a whisper. Frodo's eyes opened wide in anger and disbelief " The Steward is no more, the house of Elessar rules now and he is a just King...he will not allow that to occur." Terren nodded, " yes, if he knows of the banishment he may rescind it...if he don't and I return....my life and the wellness of these children may be forfeit. " Terren frowned, a tear in his eye " I care not so much for me....but these children have lost too much and I will not allow them to be hurt again." 

Frodo stared, understanding clearly reflected in his thoughtful gaze " then we shall not return until I am certain that I can explain your plight to the King directly." Terren nodded, " thank you Sir..." with a sharp glance from the Hobbit he continued ..er Frodo, thank you Frodo." Terren looked over Frodo's resting form quietly,an uncomfortable silence ensuing until Frodo, sensing he was being watched...asked " Is something wrong Terren?" "Well, no, not exactly...but Sir...er Frodo, well yer clothes, they are a mite bit tattered and not as tidy as they might be...they could do with some washing afore ye return to the palace." Frodo looked to himself in dismay, ripped and torn shirt, mud and blood encrusted breeches...yes he had to agree he was quite filthy. He looked apologetically to the healer " I am sorry for my state Terren, but I do have other clothing at the palace...and I shall feel, more than a little awkward and well quite exposed sitting here with naught but a blanket as my clothing is washed. "

Terren walked to Rumeil's bedding and pulled worn grey trousers, a white broadcloth shirt and blue tunic from beneath the boys pallet. "You shall be as an 8 year old lad Mr. Frodo...then if yer well enough this evening, well we shall feel safer taking ye through the city as a boy than as a halfling" Frodo looked to Terren, not comprehending " the ruffian's may still be about 'ere sir" The healer said softly. Frodo nodded, pale at the thought of another encounter with the thugs of two night ago. "I shall be a Hobbit no more then" he said with a tired smile " I shall be as an 8 year old boy." Terren helped him change and then insisted that Frodo don a pair of leggings and boots that were made for him " 'twill be mighty funny Sir, ta see a boy with such large barefeet" Terren prodded gently. Frodo nodded " yes, you are right I suspect". And so it was that Frodo found himself, by the late afternoon attired in Rumiel's clothing and Terrens boots as they waited for evening to fall....so that he could at long last return to the palace. Frodo had insisted the the elven cloak and the mithril shirt become a part of his clothing as well...he felt he needed the shield of strength and stealth this night, though he did not know why.

Terren and Kylos. Who'd returned from his days labor, took Frodo's things to wash at the edge of the river, whilst they made their plans for Frodo's 'escape' from the camp for later that evening. Rumeil and Rosetta were bade to wait with Frodo and they passed their time listening to tales, encouraging Frodo to rest, or weaving daisy chain crowns for the Princess, her poppet and her 'sir Frodo'.

As the late afternoon shadows blended into the smooth grey shades of the evening, the camp became quiet, children with families found their parents and loved ones....those without found what places of refuge from they could from the evil of the night. The gradually darkening sky was made blacker still by the passing of clouds over the slowly growing moon. Behind a tree, near to the river Anduin, two men waited. "Yer sure Dalmer said we was ta try again tonight?" Thad said. Medal spat impatiently upon the ground at his feet...."aye, we're ta wait fer the signal from Finarian...he's wantin' us ta bring in at least twenty this time....we've orders ta bring in some small ones fer some tight space work Dalmer needs doing." Thad snorted in contempt " the small ones don't last the trip...remember how riled Dalmer 'twas the last time the shipment came in so damaged?". Mendal grunted an assenting reply and focused his eyes upon some activity at the edge of the river. Mendal watched the actions of an elderly man and a young lad as they seemed to be washing some items of clothing upon the rocks by the edge of the river. "Eh, 'taint washin a work 'o th e lasses?" Thad snorted derisively as he caught the actions of the figures by the water. Mendal mumbled "aye, 'tis a sorry time when there 'taint lasses ta do the washin' " and as he was just averting his gaze to scan the camp for possible cargo, something about the items being washed caught his eye. "Eh Thad, 'taint them the breeks 'o the halfling we whumped the other

night?" Thad, his interest suddenly piqued looked to the figures by the water...."Aye, it sure is...now that was somethin' wasn't it?...I wonder where that half high has got ta? " Thad said with an evil gleam in his eyes...."Eh, Mendal...ya suppose he may be near?". Mendal shifted his eyes about the camp, taking in the numerous, though widely dispersed campfires and shelters set up, "it may jest be we get a chance ta reacquaint ourselves with that halfhigh Thad...it may jest be...." Mendal finished with a lustful sneer.

Back at the enclosure where Frodo waited with Rumeil and Rosetta, the night wore on and the Hobbit was beginning to become anxious. He knew how his absence would be wearing upon the members of all of the fellowship, and especially Sam. 'I must return as soon as I am able' thought Frodo 'Aragorn shall have a time of it from Sam if I am not back soon....they all worry so' he thought wistfully. "Rumeil" Frodo said suddenly, breaking from his building of flower crowns with his 'Princess', "Terren has been gone a long while....do you think it might be wise to go and check upon them? I know they were working a plan to get me from the camp quietly...but I grow worried that they are gone so long." He whispered to the frail boy, not wanting to worry his little sister, who was thoroughly engaged in making a daisy crown for her poppet. Rumeil smiled shyly at the ringbearer "I shall go look to their hereabouts right now Sir." "Thank you" Frodo mouthed silently to the thin lad who exited the camp soundlessly. Rosetta, in the meantime was continuing her idle , though all so important chat, with her 'Sir Frodo'. " Ye'll be needin' more flowers fer yer own crown now Sir" she stated with authority. Frodo watched her as she intently wove her flower stems into a crown for her doll, and he felt a deep sadness for the many days of childish pleasures that the many youngest citizens of Gondor had lost. He found himself hoping that the play of children would remain a priority in a world ravaged by the sadistic and insidious evil of the wars of men and wizards. 

Frodo was lost to his thoughts of innocence and childhood dreams as he noticed of a sudden the return of Rumeil, a pale and nervous Rumeil. "Rumeil, lad, what is is? Did you find Terren?" Frodo asked anxiously. Rumeil stared wide eyed and replied " I saw 'em Mr. Frodo, there was two men at the river...they were watchin' Terren and Kylos wash yer belongings....and they spoke as if they knew ya." Frodo took a deep breath and asked fearfully "Did you hear by what name they called one another?". Rumeil swallowed hard and looked to his sister, who was trying her daisy crown upon her dolly "aye" he whispered " they called one another Thad and Mendal."

Frodo felt his world close in upon him as the memory of his time with these men surfaced yet again....he shuddered and swallowed hard as he fought his own unreasoning terror. He would not allow the utter evil and shameful acts of these two men to affect the lives of those who had given so much to protect and to save him. He put aside his own terror and said as he stood up " we must find Terren and Kylos...now." Rosetta looked to him, a sudden recognition of her new friend's fear showing in her deep blue eyes. "I won't let them bad men 'art ye again Sir Frodo...I won't" she said as she stomped her small foot upon the ground insistently.. He bent to look into her serious and determined visage " Then we shall have to 'trick' them so they will not know we are here." he said with a smile in his eyes and upon his lips. "Like a game?" She asked...."we shall trick them like they are playing 'lets pretend' with us?". Frodo grabbed her small dirty hand in his and ran his other hand through her dirty blond curls " yes" he said " just like that....we shall play a game that they may not join us in." Frodo looked meaningfully to Rumeil and they exited the enclosure to find, through stealth and dark of night the comfort as Terren and Kylos . 


	11. Chapter 11: Struggling

Faces of War

Chapter 11: Struggling

  


Disclaimer: This story borrows the characters so lovingly crafted by the master J.R.R. Tolkein. I gain only the joy of using my imagination....and am grateful that others share the fun of this experience.

  


Iorheal.....Our hobbit lad has found himself in quite a bit of trouble in his attempt to gain back the palace.....you will have to wait and see what his reaction to injustice will be....over many more chapters of course!

  


Amber....Thanks for reading....I hope you enjoy Hobbit stories, they are a personal favorite of mine....this is a terrific site for a wide range of Hobbit fics so enjoy and I hope you keep reading this one....

  


FrodoBaggins87...I too like a good cliffhanger, and while I can't promise that with each chapter....the anticipation of "what will happen next" is a wonderful enticement for both the reader and writer. Sit tight, you shall see LOTS of drama and angst, pain, stands of character, moments of despair and flashes of great truths. I hope you'll keep reading!

  
  
  
  
  


Terren and Kylos made their way back to the encampment, Frodo's cleansed garments in hand and a plan for return to the palace in mind. As they approached the breech in the rock wall that marked their camp. Terren became uneasy. "It's too quiet Kylo's my lad....it 'tis too still" the healer said with a worried look upon his lined face. They entered the camp to find darkness and quiet their only companions. Terren turned to Kylos in fear "They're gone, they would not 'a left unless somethin' fearful was about....I know how worried Frodo was for the safety of Rosetta..." he took a deep breath " and how he feared them ruffians from the ally." Kylos closed his eyes but a moment and flashed back to an image of two men he'd seen by the river earlier that night...a sudden thought came to him "Terren" he said with fear echoing in his voice " I saw two men by the river this evening as we washed the Halflings garments....they were...they were smilin' and I heard one of 'em laugh" Kylos finished with quiet understanding apparent in his words. Terren hung his head but a moment, "we got ta go lad, there 'tis trouble about and I've a feelin' we're all soon ta be caught up in it." the healer said with urgency and fear battling to overcome the calmness of his words. Frodo's garments were dropped upon the ground, as fear for the safety of the young ones he loved took over and he ran from the camp.

  


Frodo looked carefully from his vantage point behind the trees that edged the river. He'd skirted the camp, keeping Rosetta quieted with a firm grasp of her hand and an occasional whispered tidbit of 'pretend' to keep her fears at bay. He breathed a sigh of relief as he looked out upon the scattered tents, lean toos and shelters of this sparsely populated portion of the camp, perhaps his fears had been for naught. He beckoned for Rumeil to come closer "Rumeil" the weary hobbit whispered "are you sure this is where you saw the men last?". The frightened boy looked about wildly, then with a quickly exhaled breath exclaimed "Yes Sir Frodo, this is where they were only a few moments ago." Frodo's lips twitched in bemusement at the lads use of his name, but he looked about him cautiously. This stretch of land near to the river seemed quiet and taking a deep breath he gestured for Rumeil and Rosetta to follow him as he readied himself to leave the safety of the shadows to continue his search for Terren and Kylos. 

  


Within seconds, his senses were overwhelmed by activities which sprung from several nearby areas; he spotted Terren and Kylos just as his sensitive hearing found the sound of a Robin's call. His eyes sought to keep Terren and Kylos within range even as his mind caught onto the thought 'Robins are a Springtime bird...''tis nigh on Summer here in Gondor....'. 

  


Two cloaked figures, summoned by the signal call of their leader, materialized from a nearby copse of trees as Rosetta's eyes found the figures of Terren and Kylos. Just as Frodo was about to stop his princess from calling out in greeting to her brother and the healer, the little lass shot from the protection of his grasp and sprung from the safety of the trees to run towards her brother's arms. One of the cloaked figures, seeing the actions of the little girl stepped forward to intercept her and caught her about the waist as she ran to find the protection of her loved ones. Kylos watched in horror as the tall dark figure before him grabbed his sister and held her tight, he screamed in protest and ran to her aid. 

Frodo looked, at that same moment, over his shoulder and saw the pale features of Rumeil highlighted by a soft beam of light from the waning moon. Rumeil had seen the actions of the cloaked man and had tensed to spring into motion as he sought to protect his sister. Within a heartbeat Frodo closed his eyes and saw within the confines of his vision, the truth that Rumeil was not to be a part of what was to come. He made a choice between one heartbeat and the next as he stooped to pick up a stick and brought it down upon the slender lads head. "You'd not survive this lad" he said in an anguished tone as Rumeil looked to him stunned and collapsed to the ground senseless. The boy lay still upon the ground, safe within the shadows of the tree as Frodo burst forth, stick in hand, ready to do battle for the child he meant to protect.

Kylos and Frodo converged upon the tall cloaked figure, holding the crying and squirming Rosetta, from opposite sides . The man, becoming impatient with the wiggling child in his arms, pulled a cloth sack from his cloak and with practiced efficiency drew it down over Rossetta head and tied it upon her with ropes wound about her tiny waist. He dropped the sack to the ground with a 'thud', causing a tiny wail of fear from the occupant of the sack. 

  


Kylos was white with fury, he looked with concern upon the sack at the man's feet, it had stopped moving. He lunged for the man as Terren, who'd been paralyzed by his fear sprung into action. The old healer had just started to emerge from the shadows of the trees, desperate to help the children, when a vicious blow to his head dropped him in his tracks. Thad snorted with derision at the foiled attempts of the old man and turned to the clearing to help Mendal. 

  


Mendal had easily caught the flying figure of Kylos as he'd flown against him in a rage. He was busy subduing him by twisting the lad's arms behind his back when the "thwack" of a stick and a burst of pain to his lower back loosened his grip upon the boy. He let go of Kylos in time to turn and see an enraged hobbit, brandishing a stick, standing two feet away. Frodo, panting from this unexpected exertion upon his weakened body, stared in horror at the face of the man who'd brought him such pain. Mendal laughed "missed me love?" he asked as he leered openly at the now trembling hobbit before him. Kylos had just gained his feet and was readying himself to attack Mendal again, when the blow of Thad's club caught him on the back, he sprawled forward and groaned as a swift kick to his head brought him to silence. Frodo stared in fear at Mendal, but as the sound of Kylos's pain reached him, fear gave way to anger and in his fury he approached the man, stick held high, once more. Mendal laughed and pulled a knife from his belt "come an get it my pretty one..." he said suggestively. Thad watched the scene before him unfold as he knelt to tie Kylos. The soft light of the moon, revealed with the slow passing of a whispy cloud, highlighted the ethereal beauty of the enraged hobbit. His pale skin glowed in the moon's light and his wide blue eyes, flashing in fury, were bright against the background of his furrowed brow. Thad felt a wonder for the fairness before him, and a leering smile came to his face as he was reminded of his last encounter with the slender halfling. He rose to circle behind Mendal, to offer what help his partner might need as the furious hobbit raised his stick and rushed in to to protect the children.

  


Frodo, with a cry of rage stooped low and swung the stick, his blow caught Mendal behind his knee, causing the man to growl in anger and fall to the ground. The Hobbit pressed his advantage and came in to strike Mendal a blow upon his shoulders, which caused the man to spin and fall to his side. As Mendal fell to his side he reached out and grasped the Hobbit's cloak and brought him with a sudden twisting yank to the ground as well. In seconds the man's knife, cold and shimmering in the moonlight, was poised at the Ringbearers throat. Frodo found himself gasping, his breath hitching from exertion and panic as Mendal reached to grasp him about the waist, trapping the arm that held the stick against his trembling body. The man slowly stood and hauled the Hobbit cruelly to his feet, the knife's presence keenly felt as a quick shifting of his head caused the blade to nick his tender skin. The trickle of blood left by the knife was a source of fascination for Mendal as the foul man tightened his grip about the hobbits waist he lowered his lips to his neck and licked the line of blood as he whispered "yer mine tonight Halfhigh". Frodo struggled to move away from the fetid breath of the man holding him, but his struggles only caused Mendal to laugh and spin the Hobbit about so that his face was closer yet to the man's evil grin. Frodo glared at the ugly countenance before him and as Medal sought to close the gap between them in a more intimate embrace, he swiftly raised his foot and kicked with all his might. The Hobbit's hardened foot landed in a sensitive region of Mendal's body and Frodo found himself suddenly let go as the man yelped in pain. Frodo spun, stick still in his hand, ready to halt his attacker once more when he found himself propelled forward with the force of a blow to his shoulders. He stumbled several feet, trying desperately to regain his footing, only to fall to the ground in a stunned heap. 

  


Thad, raised his club once more and brought it down several times upon the Hobbit's back and sides. Frodo rolled in a ball, trying to protect himself, but he could feel himself beginning to lose consciousness. As the edges of his awareness faded to grey and pain he was suddenly lifted up by the hard grasp of large hands upon his upper arms. His head lolled to one side weakly as he struggled to fix his gaze upon the figure holding him. His vision cleared enough for the image of swarthy skin, rough stubbled beard and greasy black hair to swim before him. He felt a sickness in the depths of his stomach as foul breath and leering words reached his fading senses "yer in me dreams you are me sweet", he struggled in vain as the man pressed his face to his and nearly retched as the stench of stale brews and foul meats overcame him. His last memory was of the feel of the man's lips upon his as he thankfully faded to unconsciousness.

  


Frodo woke to a rocking motion, he felt his world moving slowly and soothingly side to side, a gentle calming balm to his senses. Yet even as his body was soothed by motion, his gradually returning sense of sight and touch became aware of darkness and rough textures rubbing upon his skin. He tried to open his eyes, only to find that his head was covered by a rough dark sack that blotted out any chance his eyes had of beholding his surroundings. He carefully tried to move his body, only to find his hands tied behind him and waves of pain radiating from his back, he took a deep breath and nearly cried out from the pain in his ribs. His head ached and he felt his senses beginning to fade again as the rough grinding noise of wood upon rocks was heard. His body was slammed painfully into a hard object as the cessation of movement caused him to be jostled. The movement stopped and sounds of low voices and children's whimpers and cries could be heard as the boat came ashore. Suddenly rough, grasping hands grabbed him and slung him over a shoulder, he was reminded of his previous beating as his ribs protested his treatment and he groaned involuntarily. His last memory was of being tossed onto another hardened surface as the sounds of restless horses and the whispers of frightened children filled his ears.

  


Sam had burst into the King's council chambers shortly after his talk with Jana the scullery maid. The door wardens had tried half heartedly to question his need to speak with the King, but Sam had just shrugged them off and bolted past them. The wardens looked to one another and shook their heads, it was best not to question the Halflings for all in the palace knew the weakness the new King had for these foreigners.

  


In the time it took for a nearly breathless Sam to tell Jana's story, Aragorn had sent for his head advisors and arranged his first royal pardon. A contingency of his best tower guards was assembled and within hours all was ready for his search of the lower camps. Aragorn had retreated to his chambers and changed to his drab and anonymous ranger garb, knowing that he would find more answers without his mantle of Kingship. Legolas and Farmir were sent for and soon a small search party of 20 men were leaving the palace gates. The Sun was just rising above the distant hills as they wound their way through the twisting streets of the White City.

  


Aragorn, his eyes cold and distant, looked for the first time at the destruction of the city. His heart was filled with sadness for his people, many had suffered, were still suffering from the effects of the war. His lips were pursed with determination as his gaze took in ruined homes, shattered markets, burned out smithies and looted shops....everywhere he looked the devistation of the war was a scar upon his city. He gripped the reins of his horse with whitened knuckles and rode forth through the levels of the city. They reached the lowest level and exited the ruined main gate only to stop and stare in amazement at the sight before them.

  


The outer walls of the city had been breeched in many places, everywhere there were heaps of broken walls and remnants of fortifications. But it was not the specter of the landscape that drew the Kings eye, it was the sea of broken humanity that stretched before him. The refugee camp was just stirring, readying itself to meet another painful day, as the King of Gondor saw the true price his people had paid for Sauron's greed and avarice. He clenched his eyes shut in pain, but at Sam's quiet urging and whispered words of comfort, he prodded his horse into movement once more. They traveled to the farthest reaches of the camp, knowing from Jana's descriptions that her Grandfather had taken up residence near to the camps of the orphan children. As he broke the search party up into smaller groups, Aragorn took Sam and Legolas with him and headed towards the river where a strand of trees and ruined rock wall drew his attention. 'Two days' he thought to himself 'it is but two days that he has been missing'. He found himself wondering if 

Frodo had found friend or foe in that time, but looking at the desolation about him, feeling the sense of despair that hung over the camp, he readied his heart for the worst.


	12. Chapter 12: Taken

Faces of War

Chapter 12: Taken

  


Disclaimer: The characters contained within this story are the invention of the master story teller J.R.R. Tolkein.I gain nothing but personal satisfaction from my depictions of the lives of these wonderful characters!

  


Iorheal....Yes indeed Frodo is taken, along with the orphans of his vision....to where? Well you shall see, suffice it to say that evil did not die when the Orcs were forced from Middle Earth! Frodo will have to 'endure' his captivity without drawing attention to the children....he has to save them somehow!!!!

  


FrodoBaggins87....The ruffians, two particularly evil....and not very bright characters....will not have the opportunity to ummm, you know with poor Frodo....does he get rescued before that can happen to him again? You'll see as you read along. I will say that Frodo will experience many types of pain before he finds a way back to those who care for him!

  


Terren awoke to the sound of crying and the feel of slender shaking arms wrapped about him. As he slowly regained his senses, he recalled the events of his last memories. He tried to sit up, feeling the need to look about him to confirm his fears, but the movement was too sudden and the pain too intense. With a groan, he quieted his planned activity. A muffled cry caught his ear 

" Rumeil" the healer whispered hoarsely "don't carry on so lad....". Rumeil cried all the harder and clutched the injured healer to him with all his frail arms could muster. "Oh Terren, praises to Arda that you are alive....it was so scary" he whispered "them men that set upon Frodo , they were 'ere" he continued to cry "I...I think they took 'em....Kylos, Rossetta and Frodo....I can't find 'em anywhere." Terren tried to soothe the shaken boy "Shh lad...quiet yerself now." He struggled to sit up and felt his world spin , he swallowed a queasy feeling in his stomach and accepted Rumeil's help in sitting up. "Are ye hurt lad?" Terren asked gently looking with concern at the shaken boy at his side. Rumeil shook his head no, and then sniffled a bit as he felt a lump at the back of his head and nodded yes. Terren frowned as he felt his own head, the blow from Thad had split his scalp and sticky blood still seeped sluggishly from the wound, which was now nigh on 6 hours old. 

  


The healer gestured to Rumeil to bend down some so that he could examine the lump on his head. Upon careful examination Terren decided that while the lump no doubt hurt, Rumeil would suffer no long term effects from the blow to his head. "How did ye get hit lad, and not...not be brought to the attention of the ruffians?" the healer asked quietly. Rumeil sniffed loudly " Frodo hit me....afore I could even get outta the trees ta 'elp Rosetta, he went and hit me with a stick." The skinny lad said with tears in his eyes. Terren waited for the boy to continue "but Terren, as I was a layin' there...I heard Frodo say...heard 'em say he was 'sorry' "....Rumeil's voice grew thoughtful "and then he said 'I'd a never survived it'...." Rumeil turned to his friend "what do ya suppose he meant by that?" Terren silently thanked Arda for the hobbit's quick thinking, for he knew that in Rumeil's condition, the frail boy would not have survived any hardship. He reached a hand out for Rumeil to help him up and as the thin lad carefully helped Terren to his feet the healer said "I don't know the meanin' a Frodo's words lad....but I am glad ta 'ave ya with me....come help an old man to the river so I may wash my achin' head.". Just as Rumeil was wrapping his arms about the waist of the elderly healer....the sound of horses came to them. They turned to one another in silent fear, eyes speaking the words their mouths could not utter. "Quick, we must hide my boy" Terren gasped.

  


Before they could move more than a few steps towards the safety of the trees, the horses were upon them. Terren looked up at the ring of horses and riders that slowly formed about them and sunk to the ground in acceptance, fear and pain. Rumeil's eyes opened wide in astonishment as he lost his grip upon Terren and he looked to the figure of an elf sitting but a few feet from him, for the elf shared his horse with a sandy haired halfling. Aragorn swung down from his horse "bring my bag Legolas" he commanded as he strode to where Terren sat breathing heavily upon the ground. The King quickly eyed Rumeil and gestured for Sam to come and see to the boy while he knelt to see to the injured man upon the ground. 

  


Sam, who was very nearly the same height of Rumeil, though stockier, gently took the lads arm and urged him to sit down next to Terren. Rumeil looked with great intensity into the warm brown eyes of the concerned hobbit before him and his eyes filled with tears "Sam" he said "you're Sir Frodo's Sam". Sam's face paled and Aragorn's head shot up from where he was busy examining the old man's head wound. "What do you know of the Ringbearer?" the King asked, his voice sounding harsh under the weight of his worry. Rumeil looked to Aragorn with fear at the harsh turn of the strange man's voice and he trembled. Terren interrupted "th ringbearer was..." Terren chose his words carefully, he didn't want to shame Frodo by disclosing the nature of his injuries "...he was hurt two nights back and we feared the men who hurt him would try again, so we waited 'til under cover 'o darkness last night to try and return him to the palace." " He's 'urt!" Sam exclaimed "what happened? How bad is he? Where is he now?" his questioned came forth in a flood and the anxious hobbit stumbled over his words in his hurry to get them out. Aragorn used his hand to motion for Sam's stillness and looked intently at the old man at his feet "where is he now?" he asked with a quieter tone. " I'm afeared 'e's been taken by the men who 'urt 'em before" Terren said sadly "and Rumeil's brother and sister were taken as well." Aragorn's face was grim at the news "how long ago?' he asked. Terren shook his head " I can not say fer sure, but it seems must be we've been a lying 'ere for more than 6 hours." Aragorn looked about the quiet and nearly deserted portion of the camp "did any witness what happened?" he asked. The old man just shook his head gingerly " I can not say fer sure, it was very late and dark as well." 

  


Aragorn stood and motioned to Legolas and two of his guards "search the perimeter, ask any you may see of last night's activities." Legolas nodded and disappeared into the fringes of the camp to commence his search. Aragorn came back to tend to the old man's wound and said "we came to the camp seeking news of one who resides in the camp" he turned to look towards Sam and Rumeil "do you know of a healer called Terren?". Terren looked suspiciously at the noble stranger "why do you seek him?" he asked softly. Aragorn smiled "we bring him news of his pardon by the King and seek to reunite him with his daughter and granddaughter." The healer's eyes widened in surprise "I am the healer you seek"he said staring at the King in astonishment. "I thought as much." he said as he put a linen cloth into Terren's hand and bade him to hold it to his head as he wrapped another length of cloth about the old man's head to hold the dressing in place. Aragorn looked up from his task to see Legolas and his guards return, he rose and walked away from Terren to greet the Elf.

  


Sam and Aragorn walked to where Legolas stood with the guards, the Elf was holding Frodo's blue weskit and brown breeches. Sam grabbed the weskit, a tear in his eye " 'e's been 'ere Aragorn....we must find him." he said. Aragorn nodded "yes Sam, we will....but first we must get Terren and Rumeil back to the palace, please help Rumeil onto the guard's horse, we will ride in a moment." Sam nodded and took Rumeil's arm to lead him to the waiting horse. Legolas, a strain in his voice gestured to the stained spots the hobbit's breeches "I fear he has taken injury to spirt as well as body Aragorn." Aragorn clenched his fists in rage at the sight and felt his heart ache as Legolas reached a hand to his shoulder to comfort him. The King took the small breeches in his hands and shook his head with a look of agony in his eyes as he envisioned the fear and pain that his gentle friend must have endured. He sighed and said to the Elf "I will ride with Terren upon my horse that he might tell of Frodo's injuries, take Sam and give him what comfort you can" he stared to the Elf's blue eyes "do not tell of this hurt to Frodo....there will be time to tell of this when more is known." Legolas nodded sadly and went to take Sam upon his horse.

  


The searing heat of the day awakened Frodo. He was sprawled in the bed of a wagon, hands still bound behind him, but the hood had been mercifully removed. He opened his eyes slowly and winced from the pain of his sore cramped muscles and bruised ribs. The light of the mid day sun was glaring and his head ached from the brightness that met his eyes as he opened them weakly. He struggled a moment to recall where he was and what had happened to cause him such discomfort, from the severity of his pains and his weak and dizzy feelings, he knew he had been beaten. A sudden strangled cry from behind the cart caught his attention and he strained to sit up.

He rose up upon his elbows to peer between the side slats of the wagon, the scene before him chilled his blood, the images of his vision were starkly presented before him. A group of lonely marchers formed a weary procession before his eyes. Children, in various states of shock and exhaustion stretched behind the wagon into the distance of the dry dusty trail. His eyes frantically sought the source of the anguished cry and he noted a commotion among the men on horseback who herded the weary young ones with whips and harsh cries. A child broke from the marchers and ran to the form of a little one who'd fallen to the dust. Frodo groaned and struggled wildly to sit up fully, for it was Kylos who had burst from the marchers, Kylos who now knelt at the side of a fallen Rosetta. A man, an evil sneer upon his hardened features, raised a club and hit the boy to urge him back into order. 

  


Frodo, who'd finally gained his feet jumped from the back of the slowly moving cart and landed in a heap upon the ground. With a quick roll and twist of his aching shoulders he propelled himself back to his feet and staggered awkwardly to where the man was poised to hit Kylos again. He placed himself bravely between the man and the children upon the ground, a quick look to Rosetta told him that she'd fainted from the heat and Kylos who'd wrapped himself protectively about her, was little hurt. "She is but a child" he said angrily " She is exhausted, can she not take my place in the wagon?" he pleaded. As he knelt to see to her, he was suddenly wrenched upwards by a hand in his hair and with tears in his eyes from the sudden pain, the hobbit found himself looking once again into the swarthy face of Thad. The ruffian sneered as he grabbed Frodo's chin "She's not yer type Halfhigh, need I remind ye who is?" he said with a suggestive lift of his eyebrow. Frodo stared with disgust at the man before him as another horse rode up. "What is the delay Thad? You know Dalmer wants us there by nightfall tomorrow" a harsh voice barked. Thad loosened his grip on Frodo's hair and shoved him to the ground. "This 'er's a halfhigh Finarian...one 'o the King's very own from the palace...'e keeps it about 'as 'is...plaything'" Thad said with contempt. Finarian looked from Frodo to Thad and his face darkened with anger "the King's halfling, you fool! Do you realize that now we'll be hunted by the tower guards?" Finairian's voice bristled with rage and Thad backed down a bit. "Now Finarian, 'e was there with the orphans....we 'ad ta take 'em....and we can find ways ta make him valuable." Thad said and so saying reached down and yanked the hobbit back to his feet again, while coiling his arm about the hobbit's waist the ruffian continued , "the King 'tis said ta hold this one in high regard...'e's the Ringbearer" he said as he grasped Frodo's maimed hand and painfully thrust it forward for his leader to see. Thad's hands began to roam over Frodo's body, across his chest and down till he stood with one hand caressing his hair and the other resting on the hobbit's hip. Frodo shuddered in disgust as he felt bile rise in his throat. "The King keep's this one fer his own personal...pleasure...an 'avin' tasted them pleasures....well let's jest say the Corsair's'll pay plenty for 'em if the King won't". 

  


Finarian narrowed his eyes and thought 'the fool's plan may just work'....he was disgusted by the ruffians perverse interest in the halfling and as he looked to the weak and pale looking hobbit he shook his head in disgusted acceptance of his newest charge. "All right, he comes with us, but if he slows us down Thad, he'll pay the price for Dalmer's anger." Finarian looked to the two children, the still form of Rosetta and the glaring Kylos "put the girl in the wagon....you" he said gesturing to Kylos..."back to the others." Thad released Frodo reluctantly and did Finarian's bidding, lifting the limp form of Rosetta and placing her in the back of the wagon. Frodo looked encouragingly to Kylos and whispered "go on lad, I'll do my best to look out for her." The hobbit stood, under the heat and the scrutiny of the men's leader. Finarian dismounted his horse and standing behind him, took Frodo's hands in his as he roughly untied his bound hands and spun him about to face him. "I'll have no trouble from you little one, Dalmer's got no love for the new King and 'twould be jest as happy to get money fer a dead halfling as a live one." Frodo glared at the man before him, but remained silent, not wishing to bring any reprisals for his words upon the heads of the children. Finarian waved Thad over "see that he's tied to the back of the wagon, give him a little slack, for this one will walk in the child's place." Finarian mounted his horse and rode to the head of the halted group as Thad made certain that Frodo's hands were tied in front of him and then to a lead rope of about 10 feet from the back of the wagon. With a last caress of the hobbit's cheek, Thad shouted the command to commence and Frodo felt his arms jerked painfully as he was pulled abruptly forward.

  


The Men drove the marchers without mercy and and several times during the day's forced march Frodo lost his footing and was dragged a few feet until Kylos could get him back on his feet again. By mid afternoon his knees, hands and cheek were scraped and raw from his encounters with the ground. Finarain signaled a halt and ordered the men to seat the children and give them food and pass about water skins. Finarian knew he had to be a little more careful with his delivery this time, they'd lost to many during their last trip. Frodo swayed unsteadily on his feet, not certain that he sit until ordered to do so. As if on cue, Thad came back and cruelly shoved him to the ground and taking his water skin, poured the hobbit's ration onto the ground beside him, bent over to run his hand in a gesture of compassion upon the hobbit's cheek "ah, no water my sweet? Well, when ye can show your Thad a little affection...I'll be sure ta see that ya get yer water." Frodo spat at the man before him and said scathingly "you'll get nothing but contempt from me you foul creature."

  


Thad's eyes narrowed in anger and he backhanded the hobbit with enough force that Frodo was sent skidding across the dust his head cracking against the wheel of the wagon with a sharp 'thwack'. He lay stunned and tried to shield his face with his hands as Thad came and raised his hand again. Suddenly Kylos was there and threw himself upon the dazed hobbit as he glared at the man. Finarian's voice was heard calling to Thad and the man looked down sneering "I'll not ferget this" he growled and went to answer the leader's call. Kylos breathed a sigh of relief as he helped Frodo sit up. "Are you all right Frodo?" he asked concern in his voice. Frodo nodded weakly "yes, I shall be fine, thank you Kylos...that was a brave thing you did." he said and he gestured to Kylos to help him stand up "we must check on Rosetta while we are stopped" he insisted and he walked a few paces to peer over the edge of the wagon to the still quiet figure of his Princess. He reached down and stroked her cheek "Princess, can you hear me? Open you eyes little one...can you open your eyes for Sir Frodo?" he asked quietly, his anxiety clearly written on his pale features. She stirred and opening her eyes looked to the hobbit and her brother "Why are_ you_ in my dream Sir Frodo?" she asked sleepily. Frodo smiled his relief to Kylos and said " 'tis no dream child, here take some water" he said as he handed her the waterskin that Thad had dropped, taking none for himself. She drank thirstily and Frodo was relieved to see some color come back into her pale face. The men were readying the children to continue the march and Kylos moved back to his place in line leaving Frodo a moment to speak with Rosetta. "Rest Princess, lay back down and pretend to be sleeping or they will make you walk." he said quietly, his bound hands reaching to hers as she started to cry. "I'm scared of the bad men Sir Frodo, I'm scared" she whimpered. Frodo clasped her hands "I know" he replied gently " I shall stay as close as I can, and when it is safe I shall tell you a story of another Princess I know." She hiccuped as her cries stopped and she stared at him with tear filled eyes "Promise?" she whispered. He tilted his head to one side and lifted one corner of his mouth as his eyes sparkled "Promise" he whispered in return.


	13. Chapter 13: Inquiring

Faces of War

Chapter 13: Inquiring

  


Disclaimer: This AU fan fic is based on the inspired characters of J.R.R. Tolkien. I gain nothing, save an opportunity to experiment with my writing.

  


Aragorn swore under his breath as he wearily ran his hand through his unkept locks. He was exhausted, after returning Terren and Rumeil to the house of healing and leaving them under the watchful of Sam, he and Legolas and Faramir had returned to the camp. They had questioned, cajoled and queried any who would speak with them. There was fear in the camp, Aragorn looked about him at the ramshackle hovels and makeshift tents that many of Gondor's citizens called 'home', and he blamed them not for their fear. 

  


He thanked the old man he'd been speaking with, and with a curt nod walked to Brego. He leaned his head a moment into his silken neck, and murmured elven words to greet his loyal companion. His mind was racing, they had carefully searched the area where Terren saw the hobbit taken, and while Legolas was able to follow the signs of the struggle, and the retreating footsteps for a short distance, the heavily traveled pathways of the camp were too difficult a web to untangle. They were relying on questioning the inhabitants of the camp, but that was proving useless as well. He sighed, thinking that perhaps he'd need to change from his ranger garb and impose his Kingly presence upon his scared and reluctant citizens. He turned from his horse and his eyes swept the camp scene before him, fear and misery, suffering and despair met his eyes in the form of hungry children, numbed widows and broken men. No, he could not turn to them as King until he 'd gained their trust as a person. 

  


Just then Legolas and Faramir returned, faces drawn with fatigue and worry. Aragorn dropped his eyes and shook his head in answer to Legolas's unspoken question. The elf reached a supportive hand to Aragorns shoulder and said softly "we will have no luck in questioning the peoples of the camp, there is fear here, fear of an evil that all will not name to strangers." Aragorn nodded "yes, I sense it too my friend, and I fear that the hours that delay us only bring more hardship to Frodo and the children." He paused a moment, reflecting upon their next course of action and turned to Faramir. "We shall return to the palace and in the morning return Terren and Rumeil to the camp, with money that may lose the tongues of those reluctant to speak of their fears." Faramir looked to Legolas and then back to the King " coins may help my King, but what is needed most is hope, can we not send the healer and the boy back to the camp as emissaries of the Palace?.... Then they may be seen as seeking to organize and help those in need. In this way I feel that they will gain the trust that is needed." Aragorn smiled, a motion his lips had not made in quite a while it seemed to him "Yes my Lord Faramir, hope...with hope and trust we will find what we seek.".

  


The march continued. Through the heat of the day and as the late afternoon shadows began to gather, the children marched. Frodo, who'd told his Princess tales 'till she fell asleep, and who could now barely speak but for the dryness of his parched mouth, wavered unsteadily on his feet. He fought to stay on his feet, but as the terrain became more treacherous and the heat of the day wore on it became more difficult. The children suffered too, especially the youngest ones and on several occasions the cart was halted and Frodo roughly shoved to one side as another prone child was laid in the bed of the cart. 

  


The sun beat down upon him, the elven cloak, tunic, covering and mithrial shirt he wore soon became unbearable. His wrists were raw from the rubbing of the rope, and his feet, not fully recovered from the assault of Mordor, were bloodied from the chafing of the unfamiliar boots. He wavered unsteadily and as the cart began to pick up speed on a downhill stretch, he felt his last reserve of strength go and he collapsed. The cart continued, dragging his limp form until Kylos's cries alerted the driver and the cart was stopped. 

  


Kylos knelt down and gently pulled Frodo's unresponsive head to his lap. Finarian rode back and shouted "what's the delay?" Kylos looked to him with undisguised hatred and disgust "yer killin' him in this heat, his skin 'tis dry as a bone, the heat sickness'll get 'em if ya don't allow him ta rest." Finarian got down from his horse and kicked the prone hobbit. A moan escaped Frodo and he struggled to open his eyes. Finarian's face darkened at the thought of another delay, he knew they were already behind schedule, and Dalmer did not like delays. He looked to the boy "ya got ten minutes." He signaled to his men to have the children sit and sent water around, then dropped a full water skin at the hobbits side "remember, 10 minutes" he said and rode off to the head of the marchers. 

  


Kylos wasted no time in untying Frodo's hands and began to loosen and remove Frodo's clothing. He took the Hobbit's cloak and made a pillow for his head, dampened a portion of the tunic he'd removed and wiped the hobbits hot and dirty forehead. Frodo felt as if a troll were upon him, he felt so weary, as if all his limbs had turned to stone, he could scarcely move. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring into the concerned gaze of Kylos. "Jest you rest easy Frodo, ye collapsed from the heat and I've got ta get some of the clothing off ye." Frodo nodded weakly "no more than to the shirt Kylos" he whispered. Taking his cue from Frodo's pointing fingers Kylos turned his attention to removing Terrens boots and gasped as he saw the cuts and bloodied blisters. He sat Frodo up and handed him the water skin as he began to tend to the damaged feet. Frodo eagerly began to drink "not so fast there Mr. Frodo, ye'll make yerself sick, slow up sir...there ya go" he said and reached to take the water skin from Frodo . Frodo closed his eyes briefly in gratitude "you sound as my companion Sam" he sighed "thank you lad, you've been very brave." Kylos continued to bath Frodo's face and neck with the dampened tunic and began to unbutton Frodo's shirt to cool his chest when Frodo grabbed his hand and shook his head in warning. 

  


Thad, who'd been watching unnoticed , appeared and shoved Kylos away from the hobbit while dragging Frodo to his feet. "Ye got more clothes yet ta come off lad, here...let me help" and so saying he yanked Frodo's shirt open and gasped in astonishment. The brilliance of the Mithrial shirt shone and glittered in the glaring sun, Thad found it hard to keep his eyes upon something so bright. "Hey, Finarian, come see how the King rewards his favorite halfhigh" he laughed. Finarian rode back and dismounted in silence. He strode forward and rubbed his hand upon the hobbit's chest as he said in awe "The king must value you beyond all others to allow a gift such as this" he said in wonder. Frodo stared sullenly at the dark haired man " 'twas a gift from my Uncle" he snapped. Finarian snorted " Oh, well 'tis no matter, for it's mine now" he said as he gestured to Thad to remove the shirt. Frodo felt himself roughly shaken as the shirt was ripped over his head, and pulled back in disgust as Thad allowed his hands to remain and warmly caresses his naked chest. Thad handed the shirt to Finarian and taking the hobbits chin in his hand grabbed it hard and forced Frodo's head back so that he could gaze into his bewitching blue eyes. "I like ye better this way my sweet" he said as he suddenly took one of Frodo's hands in his and abruptly twisted his arm behind the hobbit's back and pulled him into his rough embrace. Frodo tried desperately to twist his head side to side as Thad, removing his hand from his chin, entangled it in his dark brown curls and pulled his face forward for a kiss. Frodo was caught in a brutal embrace and his lips were bruised against the force of Thad's advances. With a deft twist he finally managed to pull his face away even as his foot made contact with a sensitive portion of the man's body. With a cry of rage Frodo was thrown to the ground as Thad began to strike out at the hobbit with his feet. Kylos, found himself once more having to throw himself between the two until the flick of Finarian's whip caught him about the neck and he yelped in pain as he was pulled to the ground beside the hobbit. "That's enough Thad, you shall have to amuse yerself with the King's plaything later....now we must continue." Finarian said coldly. He yanked Kylos to his feet and shoved him aside. Next, he pulled the still gasping hobbit to his feet and rebound his hands before him as he was once again trussed to the lead rope on the wagon's gate. "You will find that I do not like delays my friend...you shall pay for this." Finarian said coldly as he signaled for the march to continue.

  


The day became a blur of pain. Finarian seemed intent upon showing the hobbit the power of his displeasure, and he frequently had the cart driver increase the speed of the cart, 'till Frodo would fall to the ground. Hard stones and hot sand burned and cut the hobbit's naked chest and face and soon he was lost in a nightmare. He doggedly put one foot before another, fell, was dragged and got up only to walk some more. All of his dreaded memories of the last days in Mordor returned to him and he relived once more the days of heat, ash, hunger and thirst as he soon could no longer distinguish his current pain from his past.

  


By nightfall, Finarian decided that he would have to halt the marchers once again. He swore under his breath "Dalmer won't be liking this delay...it's that halfling 'o the King's...." he muttered. He eyed the hobbit distastefully "he's the reason we're delayed" he said under his breath as he gave orders to his men to group the children in small clusters, and gave out water and hardened loaves of bread. Finarian didn't trust Frodo to be near to the children, and despite the protests of Kylos and Rosetta, Frodo was left alone, tied to the wheel of the cart.

  


Frodo shivered, he'd not been given any covering and the night's chill was descending upon him. He fought the urge to sleep, he needed this quiet time to think, think of a plan to aid the children and keep them from reaching their destination. He turned his thoughts to his visions, trying to see where they might be headed, but it was of no use. Try as he might, he could see no destination...he had seen the children, the pain, the cruelty of men, the march....but not the place to which they traveled. He shivered again in the night air and felt the throbbing pains of his body where it had come in contact with the unforgiving ground. 

  


He closed his eyes and a lump formed in his throat as a memory of his dear Sam, warm brown eyes and stoutly protective demeanor filled his imagination.'I've 'gone and done it now' my friend' ' he thought to himself. ' Oh Sam, how I long to have you here to fuss over your silly Mr. Frodo' he thought as his friend's face drifted before him "forgive me Sam...I know I've disappointed you yet again" he whispered to himself, as he looked up to the blanket of Stars twinkling up above, he was once again with his friend under the spreading branches of the party tree sharing stories and dreams as the stars winked at them from the ever shifting spaces between the rustling leaves of the great elm. "Oh Elbereth guide me back to him" he whispered with an edge of pain and fear making his words husky and his eyes glisten with unshed tears. The sight of his beloved stars above brought him some measure of comfort and he thought to himself 'I must be strong, I must be strong for the little ones'. 

  


He tried to adjust himself, seeking some comfort in the position in which he'd been left, but none was to be had. They had left his hands tied before him, but had bound him to the wheel of the cart with sturdy ropes wrapped about his neck. The day's march, his many falls, the sunburn upon his sensitive skin, his bloodied feet...a thousand hurts small and large seemed ready to sweep him into the bliss of unconsciousness. Yet, the rope about his neck allowed him no rest for as he began to sleep and his head dropped to the side or forward in his slumber, the rope's pull would rob him of his breath and he would surface to his pain and consciousness again. He ceased to listen to the pains and needs of his body and distracted himself with his thoughts.

  


'There must be about 40 children....more lads than lasses it looks...most about 8 to 12 summers....but 'tis difficult to tell with the children of men' he found himself thinking. He went through his mind, a careful inventory of the sights and sounds of the day 'these men are fearful of their leader, there are but four guards here...I wonder how many where we are headed?'. Frodo made a mental note to enlist Kylos's help in his tally of the guards and children. He feared that his own rapidly deteriorating health might affect his ability to recall details. With that thought his mind drifted yet again, back to the children 'they all seem to be holding up well to the strain of this ordeal' he found himself thinking that the difficulties of their lives as refugees had hardened them physically beyond their years. He trembled in the cooling air, and groaned as he sought once more to find a comfortable position. He longed for sleep, he was so very tired, but had to settle for quick respite through dozing and light slumber, all that his bonds would allow. As he drifted out of his sleepiness again from the press of the rope upon his neck, he thought of their destination. He guessed them to be around 30 or 35 leagues from Minas Tirith, they'd traveled mostly west and he guessed from the gradually changing geography and increasing elevation they were heading into the White mountains. His last thoughts were 'why? what purpose lies in the mountains?', his head, having finally found a stable place to rest, relaxed and he felt his shivering body gradually still as the weight of his fatigue forced him to a state of stillness. He slept as he had in Mordor, his body once again experiencing the total exhaustion that constant pain and discomfort brought, while his mind sought to hold on to a glimmer of hope that would guide him to the next day.

  



	14. Chapter 14: Struggling

Faces of War

Chapter 14: Suffering

  


Disclaimer: The characters from the AU story are drawn from the inspired writings of J.R.R. Tolkein. I gain nothing....but the chance to explore my own writing style.

  


This portion of the story is rated R for pain and cruelty to the captured hobbit...hang on Frodo!

  


Iorheal....if you think Thad is "a bad guy"....wait 'till you meet Dalmer...I must confess ( as I did to M.Bradford...I was inspired by the cool and ruthless detachment of her favorite villain...). Things get pretty rocky for the ringbearer...it's difficult to portray pain and strength at the same time...but I'm trying!

  


Shire Baggins....Frodo, who is luckily smart and "plucky"...will have to find a ay to hold on to his resolve and his strength of will...in the face of great pain and fearful choices...oops, didn't mean to confuse you with another "shiremate"!

  


endymion2...I'm glad you found me again! Don't worry about Thad...he is soon to be replaced in the world of villainy by a far greater evil! Frodo's future is looking kinda bleak right now....poor lad...

  


FrodoBaggins87....Sorry that Thad's comment was so unpleasant to you...I do hope you realize that it is of course not true and that the "wrong doers" of the world like to pull those of high and noble stature "down" to their own lowly levels...so If Thad was "casting aspirations" you did not agree with...that just means you are not a good candidate for "bad guy training"...whew! Anyway, Frodo will find many of his feelings, fears and hopes alike, tied in some way to the future of these children!

  
  


The morning dawned clear, the rosebud tinge of pink outlining the snow capped peaks of the White Mountains, a day that held a promise of glory, a day that found Aragorn striding purposefully to the quarters of Master Samwise. He had only to knock once and Sam was to the door, questions tumbling from him as his breath came in gasps " 'ave ya found anything? Anyone seen any sign a Mr. Frodo and the wee ones? What 'ave ye been doing all night?". Aragorn held up two hands to show his surrender "peace my friend, I will answer your questions as soon as you let me in" the King said with a bemused expression. Sam had the grace to look a little shamefaced and with reddened cheeks he opened the door and urged Aragorn into the room. 

  


Aragorn looked sadly at the sandy haired hobbit "Sam, I am afraid we've found nothing, the residents of the camp are fearful and we need to have Terren and Rumeil return to the camp." Sam shook his head in confusion "why sir, what can they ask that ye can't?" Aragorn walked to the window and gestured to the city below " come here Sam" he asked. Sam approached the window and took in the sight of devastation and loss that the citizens of Minas Tirith were surrounded with. The hobbit waited long moments for the King to speak. Aragorn spoke softly "Sam, my people have suffered, the city needs to be rebuilt, but more than that, the people of the city need hope and help....I am prepared to give both, and to offer these things with Terren, Rumeil...and perhaps yourself, overseeing it's distribution." Sam nodded reluctantly,as he felt his face flush with a sense of shame "I'd like ta 'elp ya Aragorn, but ...well my mind's on my Mr. Frodo if you don't mind Sir." He finished sadly. "Yes Sam, I know....and I will release you from this duty as soon as we have information that will guide our search. Right now however, this is how you can best aid Frodo." Sam looked into the depths of the King's deep grey eyes, he saw pain, compassion and kindness and realized that his lifetime loyalties to Frodo, strengthened by all they'd endured, included his friendship to this man. "I will help Aragorn, tell me what yer wishin' and I'll fetch Terren and Rumeil." Aragorn smiled gently at the stalwart hobbit and guided him to a seat at the table. They sat and spoke for nearly an hour and by the time the King excused himself to gather more men for another attempted search, Sam's head was spinning with all the details.

  


The cracking of whips and brusquely shouted commands of harsh , strident voices filled the early morning air as the children were forced to their feet. Finarian cracked his whip and it's sudden stinging lash woke Frodo with a gasp. With a clean and effortless motion, as if the knife were an extension of his contempt, Finarain cut the ropes about the Hobbit's neck and he was hauled roughly to his feet. He stood unsteady for a moment, and leaned against the wheel of the cart to bolster his weakened legs. He stared submissively to the ground, not wanting to confront their captors in a way that might bring retribution to the children. He was beginning to see the cruelty of these men answered only to to their own selfish needs and not the twinges of conscience that guided the rest of humanity. Head bowed down in a meek appearance of his accepted status, Frodo was alarmed to see that Finarian was forming the children into lines without feeding them. He looked up through dark lashes and dirty curls " Sir Finarian," he said softly at the glaring man before him "how fare the children? For without food and drink to start their day, some will slow the march down or perish from their fatigue." 

  


Finarian scowled and with sudden fury backhanded the hobbit with such force he was thrown to the ground " mind ter yer own affairs halfhigh, I know the business of slavin' " and so saying strode to the front of the wagon and ordered that stale bread and water be given to the children. 

Kylos sidled up to the spot where Frodo lay upon his side, up on one elbow gingerly feeling his latest bruise. "Are ye all right then sir?" he whispered, not wanting the guards to take notice of him "that were a brave thing ye did Frodo, I'm certain he had no intent ta feed us". Frodo, with a boost from Kylos came slowly and painfully to his feet "nor I" he said grimly as he stared with anger at the retreating form of Finarian. He turned to catch the look of worry upon Kylos's face and continued "don't worry lad, I am fine...for now" he added, under his breath. He cast his eyes about the activity going on around them...."Kylos, see to the others, I shall keep to Rosetta, since I am soon to be trussed to the wagon again." he said, looking with sorry resignation upon the sight of his sorely chafed and raw hands bound before him. Frodo felt he urgently needed to take these few unguarded moments to speak with Kylos, he would need both their wits about them for them to make it through this. "Kylos, as we enter the camp, keep count of the number of guards, try to absorb what details you can about the location they take us to." the hobbit's voice grew lower as he saw a man approach to take Kylos to his place in line. 

  


Frodo took advantage of his unencumbered status to lean in over the sideboard of the cart "Princess" he whispered looking in concern at the quiet huddled form before him. "Yes Sir Frodo" she whispered back, eyes wide with fear as her hand grasped a dry hunk of dark bread that she periodically would bite from and chew mechanically, taking no pleasure from her food but knowing that she must eat. Frodo's heart was pained from the sheer look of hopelessness upon her dirt streaked face, he resolved to find a way to lessen her fears, by what ever means possible. "Have you ever seen an elf my Princess?" he asked quietly. Rosetta's eyes opened wider and she shook her head 'no' "but I have heard they are the most beautiful of creatures" she said in awe. Frodo smiled, longing to reach over and brush the hair from her face, but restrained by the distance and bonds that secured his wrists. "No dearest, a child in the bloom of youth, no matter their race is the fairest of creatures" he replied gently. 

  


A guard soon came and tied Frodo's hands once more to the lead rope, which had been shortened so he was now forced to walk closer to the cart. This enabled him to whisper stories of elves and far away places to Rosetta as the group was marched trough the morning. One brief stop at noontime and they were again on their way. Frodo looked about him, Rosetta was sleeping, he was grateful for her rest for his voice was hoarse from the effort of many hours of whispered stories. He looked fondly at the child and smiled as he recalled that her favorite story had been that of Princess Arwin and the Ranger Aragorn 'a tale just beginning' he thought as he tried to take his mind from his hurts with a whispered prayer of hope, that these two noble beings should have all they wish from life. He thought of the beauty and grace of the Evenstar, and knew that Aragorn would forever be blessed by the favor of the Valar.

  


He watched the landscape about him, they were in the foothills of the mountains now, his legs ached from the strain of walking up steep trails and down paths whose many small rocks rolled beneath his feet, making it difficult to keep his balance. He was grateful that he'd only fallen a few times so far during the days march, but feared that his waning energy would soon make stumbling a more frequent occurrence. A sudden cry from one of the guards indicated that they were approaching their destination. Frodo looked about, trying to take in every detail, they were upon the ridge of a vast pit. The meandering path had brought them through a thick forest and ended abruptly at the edge of a large chasm. He looked down, there were men, many who were working and hauling great pieces of granite and some who, with whips and shouts, kept the other men working. He watched, carefully trying to keep his feet as they descended a steep and narrow path to the bottom of the pit. 'There is but one way in and out" he thought and his eyes roamed further. He could see several small holes and a large opening in one of the sharp grey walls of the pit. As he got closer he say that the men who worked to drill, hack and cut the stone were tied about their legs. He shook his head in confusion as he tried to make sense of his surroundings 'where in the name of Eru are we?" he wondered. The cart came to a halt near the larger opening in the wall, Frodo was so busy memorizing the details of his surroundings that he did not notice the approaching footsteps, until his body was suddenly cooled by the shadow standing beside him. 

  


He looked up carefully to see the faces of the men and was savagely backhanded. "Don't go lookin' to yer betters halfhigh, until we tell ya ye can look to our leader" Finarian snarled. Frodo struggled to lift himself from the ground where he'd fallen. A harsh and sarcastic laugh filled Frodo's ears and he looked behind him to the cart to see Rosetta standing, awoken from her nap, she saw the blow that the hobbit had taken. She opened her mouth to protest, but a stricken look from Frodo stilled her and she sat abruptly, watching fearfully to see what the bad men would do to her Sir Frodo, her lip trembled as she fought back her tears 'I shall be brave as Princess Arwin was at the ford' she thought to herself. Frodo, noting Rosetta's quieted posture, sighed in relief, he did not want the attention of the men drawn to the children 'I must do all I can to draw their anger' he vowed as he struggled to his feet at last. 

  


He found his hair entangled in the large fist of a man who slowly wrapped his other hand about the hobbit's neck, the man's entire hand encircling his slender neck. Frodo gasped as he was pulled into the air and grasped wildly with his bound hands to the fingers gripping his neck. His world began to swim in a maelstrom of flashing white light and black dots as his need to breathe became more urgent. As he struggled to retain consciousness he heard a deep voice say 

" Very good Finarian, not just any Halfling, but the very one my brother fancied in Ithilian.... 'tis a shame Anborn is not here to see the object of his affections." Frodo's eyes opened wide in remembrance and he felt a chill pass through him. The man holding him pulled him closer for a look "he 'tis a fair one....I can almost see why my brother sacrificed his career." Frodo's hearing began to fade as the black dots swam before him and the last thing he heard was his Princess scream.

  


When Frodo came to he was lying upon his back, arms and legs stretched and bound to the corners of a rude cot. He looked about him weakly, he was in a cave, dark walls dripping with the moisture of nearby springs. He shuddered, the only light came from a series of torches lit upon the walls; dark, he hated the dark. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his nerves, he'd hated the dark since he was a lad at Brandy Hall. He gulped as he briefly recalled the terror of being locked into the vast cellars of the Hall. 'Steady yourself Frodo Baggins' he thought and he took a deep, calming breath, he knew he'd soon have more than the dark to fear.

The sounds of whips and curses came to him and Frodo wondered if the other prisoners were held here as well. 'The children' he thought 'where are they? Are they to be held near to the other prisoners?' His thoughts betrayed his fear and he groaned in his anguish and started pulling at his bonds. "My dear Halfling, do you not see that it is useless to struggle?" His captor laughed and Frodo strained his head to see who spoke to him. A tall, unshaven man with lank brown hair moved from the shadows. His eyes were hard and his expression filled with contempt as he kneeled by the side of his captive. He reached out a roughened hand and gently stroked the dark tangled curls of the ringbearer " yes, struggling is quite useless" he said with a last ruffle of Frodo's curls. Frodo pulled away in disgust. The man walked to a nearby table and took up a bowl of water and some rags. "I have much to gain, and to take perhaps, from one such as you" he said with a sneer as he knelt once more and this time ran his large hand down Frodo's bare and sunburned chest. 

  


Frodo tried to keep his emotions under control, but his found his breaths becoming more shallow in his discomfort. He steadied himself with effort and sought the words he'd heard this man say as he'd lost consciousness "do I know you?" the hobbit asked, his gentle and refined speech a stark contrast to the harsh sounds made by the man at his side. The man laughed "not me my friend, it's my brother who has made yer acquaintance." The leering form beside him eyed Frodo with interest and the hobbit felt his skin crawl "aye, you are the halfhigh that cost my brother his station in the guard...he desired yer fine and fair skinned body...'though he tells the tale that he 'restrained' himself for his cap't ta have ye first." Frodo stared in horror "that's a lie, Lord Faramir was nothing but honorable." A sudden slap to the hobbit's face brought blood to his nose "ye'll not be calling my brother a liar little one...and perhaps ye shall have the chance to relive old times in a day or two when he returns...and then he'll, well let's say he'll 'refresh' yer memory." Frodo stared in horror at the man beside him..."Dalmer" he whispered "you're Anborn's brother". 

  


Dalmer smiled maliciously "that I am...and I am your 'host'...and as tempten' as ye may be" he paused as he allowed his hand to run down the hobbits chest and rest intimately upon his hip, my mind runs more ta the money ye'll bring me". Dalmer leaned over and dipped a rag in the bowl of water at his feet "with that in mind, I've found that people will pay more for cleaner goods." Dalmer started to wipe the blood from Frodo's face and he leaned in very close to stare into the hobbit's wide blue eyes. Frodo readied himself for yet another intrusion and indignity and was surprised to find Dalmer move away. Dalmer moved to his chest and carefully washed away the dirt of the past days journey. As the man moved from his chest to his feet, he ran his hand down along the length of his body, stopping to offer a lingering caress in his most intimate spot. "I may yet be persuaded though little one, I may" Dalmer said as he commenced washing the Hobbit's feet. Frodo gritted his teeth in agony, from both the pain of his bloodied feet and the humiliation of being so helpless. "Am I hurtin' ya little one?" Dalmer asked with false concern evident in his words..."my, we may jest have to see to these feet of your now?" he said. He stood up and put the bowl on the table and gestured for another man to come from the shadows. From the fear and tremor in the old man's stance, Frodo guessed that he too was a prisoner.

  


Frodo watched as the old man was forced to sit and handed a parchment and a quill, a bottle of ink place on the table. Dalmer nodded to the man and Frodo heard the scratching sounds of the quill. Dalmer stood back and watched as the likeness of Frodo appeared on the parchment. The old man fearfully handed Dalmer the drawing, and he brought it to show the hobbit. Frodo had to admire the skill of the old man, he vaguely wondered what he had been in days past to still have such talent. "Yes, it looks like me" the hobbit said wearily, "do you intend to send it with a ransom note?". Dalmer smiled "why yes, I think I will...but it does seem to be missing something" he said as he placed it upon the table and handed the old man another piece of parchment. He walked back to Frodo's face and pulling a knife from his belt knelt by the hobbit's side. "Do you know what it is missing?" Dalmer asked moving his face in closer. Frodo's eyes opened wide in terror as he saw the gleam of the nearby torches reflected in the smooth blade of his knife. "An element of fear" Dalmer hissed and he grabbed Frodo's hair, placing the knife at the hobbit's throat as he leaned in and covered Frodo's lips with his own. Frodo nearly retched from the smell and taste and feel of the man's lips upon him, but he dared not move with the blade held so close to his neck. Just when he thought he would faint from this assault upon his senses Dalmer ended the kiss with a brutal bite of Frodo's lower lip. The hobbit screamed as blood sprayed from his torn lip and he arched his head back in pain as he panted. 

  


So distracted was he by the pain of his torn lip that he did not see two more men come from out of the shadows. They stood at the foot of the bed and grasped his leg "still not enough fear little one" Dalmer said as he took his knife and began sawing through flesh and bone as he removed the toe from Frodo's foot. Frodo's agony was reflected in the mad thrashing of his body, he strained at his bonds and screamed in loud gasping sobs as Dalmer sawed through his flesh. The hobbit's screams echoed through the depth of the caverns and many, even the most hardened prisoner, shook their heads in pity for the one chosen to bear that level of pain. Frodo's breath came in hitching sobs and gasps as Dalmer stood before him, holding the bloody remains of his toe. He was dimly aware of Dalmer wrapping the mangled flesh in parchment, before he looked to the rapidly growing pool of blood that dripped from dribbled from his foot to an ever growing puddle upon the floor. He felt his world spin as he managed to thrust his head to one side of the cot and retch, all the foul happenings of the past days caught up in his heaving and choking , until he had nothing left and he weakly rolled his head back. Dalmer's face swam before him "This should loosen the purse strings of the King" he laughed as he waved the bloodied parchment before the hobbit's face. Frodo groaned and tears came to his eyes, the sight of blood, the pain of a missing part of his body...he remembered the moments in Sammouth Naur and he sobbed. There at least he'd had his Sam, the agony of his aloneness overcame him and his eyes rolled back into his head as he fell into foul dreams.

  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15: Envisioning

Faces of War

Chapter 15: Envisioning

  


Disclaimer: The genius behind the characters in this story belong to J.R.R. Tolkien....I gain nothing from this endeavor, save the joy of writing!

  


This story has been rated R...for violence...and for the seemingly insurmountable odds faced by all of the Fellowship...especially Mr. Baggins.

  


Iorhael....Dalmer is just rancid with evil isn't he? Wait until you meet his brother (oops...not to give anything away...). I think that his cruelty stems from a need to dominate and control...to shape his world with hatred the way the hobbits have shaped theirs with love, the elves with elegance and finery, the dwarves with enduring craftsmanship...and men with the need to expand their horizons. Believe it or not...the cruelty inflicted upon Frodo is to teach all of the fellowship and especially Frodo some valuable lessons later!

  


Becca....I'm glad you like the story...it is rather rough on poor Frodo...but the strength of this hobbit is not to be underestimated!

  


FrodoBaggins87....this story is sad...but through the sadness and cruelty will come an ultimate sense of love and fulfillment....I thought of the "tragedy" rating...but aren't all tragedies infused with drama? And....while this is painful now...doesn't a tragedy have a sad ending? I hope you'll stick with it...there will be much in the way of "goodness" that comes from these hard and cruel times!

  


endymion2...Yes, Dalmer is a little like a "8" on the Richter scale of bad guys...poor Thad is but a "5"....Frodo does "rise from the ashes" in this story...and like the Phoenix...well you know you can't keep keep this hobbit down! I am sorry that Frodo had to go through another "disfigurement"...but you will see that there is a point to this later in the story....I hope you will "stick to it"...there is a "10" lurking in the cavern......

  


LilyBaggins....Thank you for your kind praise....I am just "spreading my wings" in this genre of writing...and set goals to improve different aspect of the writing with each story...I am working on descriptions now...let me know if you think other images come to your mind as you read...and kindly share them so that I can further enrich my story! Frodo garners the support of an entire nation ultimately...our little one who feels unworthy of praise...will find out by the end just what it is that makes him so special!

  


Two days were past as Aragorn gathered what information he could from the hours Terren, Rumeil and Sam spent in the camps. Two days in which Sam, when not working himself feverishly in the camps, was pestering the King. The hobbit had packed and re-packed his gear, studied maps and tried to think of every item of comfort his Mr. Frodo would need, that would fit in his saddlebags. He had also driven Aragorn to distraction with his constant questions and queries about _when_ they would set out and expand their search for Frodo beyond the walls of the city. The morning they were due to leave, Sam was out by the pack animals, making last minute adjustments and grumbling "where is 'e then? We're ta be gone by first light 'e said....if this is first light then I'm a Elf". He turned from his pony and nearly walked into Legolas. The Elf had heard all the rumblings of Master Samwise "An Elf Sam? " he asked with raised brow. "Well" Sam blustered " 'tis just an expression, though truth ta tell I'm becoming so rankled by these delays....I'm about ta turn to a troll!". Legolas lifted the side of his mouth in a sad imitation of a smile and laid his fair hand upon the hobbit's sturdy shoulder. " It is about the delay I've been sent....Aragorn bade me to find you and guide you to his chambers." and so saying the graceful Elf turned to walk into the palace, leaving Sam gaping in his wake. "Now just a minute there....what is the delay about now?" Sam asked as his short hobbit legs doubled their pace to keep up with the long legged Elf. Legolas did not answer, but reached the door of Aragorns council chamber and ushered Sam inside.

  


Sam entered the great chamber, feeling lost in the size of the room and the sudden fear that gripped him as he looked upon the faces of his friends. Gandalf and Aragorn were huddled by the map table, voices droning on in hushed discussion as Sam approached. As Aragorn turned from the table Sam noticed a bundle of papers cast upon the map, his eyes were glued to those papers and with a sinking feeling in his heart he looked up to the King. "What's happened" he whispered. When no one answered he continued "what is it ya got there then?" he asked cocking his head towards the bundled papers.

  


Aragorn knelt and placed a steadying hand upon Sam's hand " We received a messenger from the river garrison late last night...he brought this" he said pointing to the papers upon the table. Sam looked from one face to another, feeling like a coney in a trap as he said "what is is yer not telling me, I 'aven't seen such long faces since the Gaffer found the Sackville-Baggin's were buyin' Bag End". Aragorn took a deep breath and gestured to Faramir to bring one of the papers to him. "This came with a ransom note Sam" the King explained as he unfurled the rolled up parchment. Sam looked to the drawing with confusion, it was a drawing of his master, hands and feet bound to a cot and a look of angry determination in his eyes...he couldn't help but think what a good likeness of him it was, when his thoughts were interrupted by Aragorn. "This one also arrived Sam" The King said gently, cocking his head as he looked into his wary gaze, to be sure that he could read Sam's expression. It was a picture of Frodo, tied to the same cot. Here, there was no spirit of defiance, there was blood dripping from his lower lip and at the foot of the bed a man stood ginning with evil pleasure as he hacked away at the hobbit's foot. The look in Frodo's eyes had been captured in the likeness and Sam had not seen such terror and despair since Mordor, his head thrown back, eyes wide in terror and surprise. His blood ran cold as he waited for Aragorns next words.

Aragorn sadly gestured for Gandalf to bring forth the last paper. Sam was vaguely aware of brown stains about the paper and wondered from whence the stains were made. Sam wavered, feeling an uneasy jolt in his his stomach as Aragorn carefully opened the last paper to reveal a small bloodied lump of flesh and brown hair.

  


Sam stared at the object carefully cradled in the palm of Aragorn's hand, and his fear for Frodo, hatred of men and disgust all fought to overwhelm his senses. His disgust won out and he collapsed to his knees gasping and retching as the agony of his fear for Frodo was expelled brutally in the contents of his stomach . Aragorn handed the parchment back to Gandalf and carefully reached for Sam. He held his shaking shoulders and steadied him the best he could while he sent a page for one of his healers. When Sam had finally emptied himself of all the pain and discomfort his stomach could muster he moved weakly away from his sickness upon the floor. Aragorn gently picked up the still sobbing hobbit and brought him to a nearby bench as the others looked on in sympathy.

  


Aragorn carefully took the edge of his tunic and wiped a remnant of Sam's despair from his lips and waited for Sam to speak. "Wh..why Aragorn? Why 'im? What manner 'o beast contrives ta do such a thing ta one so helpless?" he asked shaking, and Sam's tears started again at the image of Frodo, near half the size of these men, suffering so...without him there to comfort him. Sam couldn't bear that image, nor the thought that his master might be missing him as much as he felt in his own heart the emptiness of time away from his master. His tears continued and Aragorn soothingly rubbed his back and brought Sam's head to rest against him. "Sam, these men do not contrive evil my friend..." his eyes grew dark and countenance hard "they define it". Try as he might, Sam could not stop his tears and wiping his hand across his tear stained face cried "Oh master" to the air around him "more cruel and hard times upon ye and yer Sam not there ta 'elp...oh sir I can't bear it" he moaned and then whispered plaintively "I'm sorry sir...sorry " and as he pleaded with the image of Frodo his mind had created he vowed, voice growing hard and husky "yer Sam'll be there sir, jest as soon as he's able....yer Sam'll be with ya." . Sam hid his face in Aragorn's tunic a moment, trying to harden himself, steady his quaking heart and prepare himself for the tasks he knew must come next.

  


The healer arrived, and as the pages cleaned the floor, Aragorn tried to urge Sam to take a calming tea, a medicine to sooth his nerves and help him to sleep. Sam looked up from where he'd huddled at the King's side, eyes flashing in anger " Sleep? Soothed? No, I'll not be coddled when my Master 'tis havin' none 'o these comforts....no I'll be in me own right mind until we can bring Frodo back where he belongs." Aragorn put the cup down and nodded approvingly, he was relieved to see the spirit of Sam rekindled, he feared it would take much of all of their anger to provide the energy their bodies would need to complete this task. "All right Sam, I will not press you to take this....but know that I can aid you if you wish." the King said softly. Sam nodded and wiped his tears one last time as he shakily got down from the bench and walked hesitantly to the map table, sighing heavily as he spied once more the drawings of his master he asked of all assembled "what treasures in all the world will satisfy men such as these?", none answered and he continued " My master walked through the fires of every man's worst nightmares ta bring light and hope to this world....ta rid these lands 'o cruelty such as this" he said angrily gesturing towards the bloodied parchment. The enraged hobbit stared defiantly all around the table, taking in the pain and fear on all of their faces he realized his anger was not the answer, not here, not now, not towards them, and he changed his tone. He licked his dry lips and asked sadly "How could there still be such evil left in the world? What more can my master give that 'asn't been given?".

  


Aragorn moved from the bench to the side of the lonely hobbit, he knelt down to look him in the eye " I do not have the answers you seek Sam...but I do know that none in my Kingdom will rest until he is brought back home." The King's steely grey eyes locked with the gaze of the hobbit and Sam found reassurance once more in the strength and compassion of this man. 

  


Sudden footsteps echoed upon the smooth marbled floor and Sam turned to see Lord Faramir enter the chamber. His drawn face and saddened posture told Sam that he too knew of the ransom note. Faramir approached the King "Sire, a second messenger from the river garrison has arrived, they lost the trail in the rocky terrain of the pass." he said regretfully and gave Sam a look that spoke fully of his compassion. Aragorn nodded grimly, as though he'd expected such news. "What ransom do they seek Sire?" Faramir asked quietly as he stared intently upon the figure of his King comforting the hobbit with the proximity of his presence. Faramir felt a lump in his throat as he looked upon the quietly distraught King. He looked aged and weary beyond his years, the Steward's son was beginning to know what manner of man Aragorn was and knew he blamed himself for much that had happened over the past days. 

  


Aragorn stood slowly and moved a few paces from Sam's side to look more closely at the note upon the table "the man who signs this note signs his name 'Dalmer' ", he said as he waved his hand in the direction of the brown stained parchment that held the bloody reminder of Frodo's torment He bent over the map table and said heavily, he asks for the full provisioning of the three Corsair ships, and to have 100 bags of gold coin included in the stocking of each ship."

Faramir mulled that information over in his mind and asked, almost to himself his voice was so quiet "three ships? How is he to fully man three ships?" he asked. Aragorn looked sharply at the son of the former Steward "I have asked that question as well, for each ships requires the work of nearly 200 slaves to man the oars." Legolas interrupted "Aragorn, where does he ask that the ships be berthed upon the Anduin?" The King pointed to the three different locations where the ships were to be left. The slim elf narrowed his eyes and looked up from the map to meet his King's eyes "He does not seek three Ships Estel, he seeks to have you believe that he has the men to man three ships, whilst taking only one." Aragorn nodded with understanding and asked "yes, but which one?". The King furrowed his brow in consternation, "they have sworn not to return Frodo to us until we receive a messenger telling us of his location...they may be upon any of the ships by then." he said his worry reflected in the tone of his words and the lowered volume of his rich voice.

  


Gandalf spoke up from his place by Sam, where he'd taken the task of providing comfort as he placed his hand reassuringly upon the hobbit's shoulder "do not distract yourself overmuch with these ships Aragorn, you must hold faith that our stubborn Mr. Baggins may yet aid himself in his escape." Aragorn allowed himself the briefest of smiles as he contemplated that possibility, and then pointed to the 2nd picture of Frodo "a wound such as this Gandalf, left untreated, will take all the strength and resilience of the ringbearer. " He shook his head sadly "nay, I do not feel he will be able to aid us in his rescue" he said with quiet acceptance. 

  


Sam, who'd stood by Gandalf, sniffling and wiping away the occasional tear, was heartened by the Wizard's words. "Ye 'aven't seen Mr. Frodo determined like I 'ave, why if there is an injustice that won't be bourne, well not even one 'o Mr. Bilbo's trolls could stop 'im from doin' what's right and proper" he said proudly. Aragorn smiled gently at the hobbit's hopeful words "let us hope you are right Sam, I fear we shall need help from many quarters to bring Frodo safely back to us". Sam, nodded sadly and as he turned to climb upon the pedestal of the map table to gain a better look, he stumbled and nearly fell as the shock and worry of his mind caught up with his weary body. Aragorn reached quickly to steady the hobbit before he fell. "Sam, you are weary from this news and the strain it has caused, I know you will take no draught, but will you retire to rest of your own accord?" The Wizard added in a voice that would not be challenged "your King is right Sam, let us get you back to your chambers, a little rest would do us both good my dear hobbit." Sam sighed heavily and looked about the room, at the faces of those he loved and he missed his Frodo that much more. "Please, beggin' yer pardon, but I'd like ta rest in Mr. Frodo's quarters if I might....I 'll feel, well closer to 'im there if ya catch my meanin' " the hobbit's eyes were pleading with Aragorn. "Of course Sam, I will have food and bath supplies sent...go rest and I will summon you as soon as a plan is formed" Aragorn said and he continued "he will come back to us Sam, we shall all hold true to that hope." Sam sighed and nodded wordlessly as he allowed himself to be lead from the room by the comforting hand of the tall Wizard at his side.

  


Faramir walked to the map table and picked up the second parchment, something about the figure of the man positioned by Frodo's foot struck him. The blatant cruelty and evil look in his cold eyes turned his stomach and he shuddered to think of how gentle and scholarly Frodo would fare at the hands of men such as these. "There is a presence in this man that is strangely familiar to me" he said quietly to Aragorn. His mind suddenly brought Faramir back to the caves of Henneth Annun, he was reminded of another scene of cruelty towards the frail hobbit. In his mind's eye he saw Frodo brutally tossed against a wall and then dragged to his feet as Anborn placed his hands upon the frightened hobbit to 'help' him regain his feet. He recalled the cold and calculating lust he'd seen in the soldier's face and he sighed heavily.

  


Aragorn looked to him with concern etched upon his features "Faramir, what is it? What do you see in this picture?" the King asked insistently. Faramir rolled his eyes upward and set his lips to a hard straight line as he began his tale. Holding the parchment, he pointed to the figure by Frodo's feet, "he is the brother of my former aide, an aide whom I had sent from my side in disgrace because of the manner in which he treated Frodo." Legolas placed a supportive hand upon Faramir's shoulder 'do not place blame upon yourself Lord Faramir, as we are all wont to do" the elf said as he looked knowingly at Aragorn "tell us the tale, for perhaps within your story will be information to help us find the hobbit". Faramir nodded and told of the day he and his rangers had come across Frodo and Sam, "they were worn from their travels and Frodo especially showed signs of great weariness and worry." Faramir shook his head sadly "it was the law that all found were to be questioned and executed as needed, so I had their hands bound and their eyes covered as we marched for several hours through the woods to our camp at Henneth Annun.". He turned to Aragorn "I did as I was ordered, but my Aide, a man called Anborn, did much more that I was not aware of at the time." Faramir told of the sadistic pace that his men had forced upon the hobbits. of the sadistic pleasure that Anborn had taken from Frodo's frequent falls upon the path. He revealed that Anborn had, after each fall, taken pleasure from dragging the hobbit none to gently to his feet and that with each fall Frodo had been 'checked' for injury in such a way that had left the frail hobbit shaken and shamed. Faramir placed is head in his hands a moment and continued "it was only later, as I went to the deeper recesses of the cave to speak with the hobbits that I found out from Sam that Frodo had been taken by Anborn for 'interrogation' to a far cavern room." The Steward's son looked pale as he continued 'you must understand that the orders for this 'interrogation' did not come from me, but rather from Anborn's misguided desire to control and dominate the weakness and vulnerability that he perceived in the ringbearer, so while I did not order this 'questioning' it happened none the less." Farmir was quiet a moment, struggling with how to continue. "What happened Faramir" Aragorn prodded gently. Faramir's face was filled with pain as he completed his tale " when I came upon him at last I found that Anborn had stripped Frodo of his shirt and had tied him face down upon a table, he'd taken his belt and given him a few strokes upon his back." Faramir paused and closed his eyes a moment to steady himself before continuing. "Frodo's near helpless state and frail weariness had excited a lust, an un-natural desire to dominate....and I arrived only just in time to stop my aide from raping the hobbit." Faramir hung his head in shame, Frodo had suffered from the beating and the mistrust he'd seen in his wonderous blue eyes haunted him to this day. 

  


Aragorn was deeply saddened by Faramir's tale, for he knew that the brutality of war and profession of killing often blurred the lines of right and wrong for some men. "Faramir" the king said gently "you did what was right for the times we were living." Framir nodded after a moment "yes, I did...Anborn was harshly disciplined in the manner of men of Gondor, given lashes and sent in disgrace from my company." Faramir shook his head "Now I fear that Anborn may be a part of this, and I saw the hatred, the contempt, the lust his felt for Frodo....I fear for our friend more than ever now my King." he said with agony in his voice.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. chapter 16: Aiding

Faces of War

Chapter 16: Aiding

  


Disclaimer: The characters so lovingly crafted are the invention of J.R.R.Tolkein....I gain nothing from my adventures trough the eyes of hobbits, elves, dwarfs, wizards and men....save perhaps the hours of enjoyment in find in writing!

  


Warning...this chapter has lots of "angst"....some a little descriptive....hold steady though readers...Frodo will come out of this story changed for the good!

  


Shire Baggins....Back to Frodo for this chapter...hope you're ready! There is more pain and suffering...and we have not yet even introduced the worst of the bad guys......Frodo finds his comfort through the eyes of a child...even though he longs for his Sam!

  


ClaudiaofBree...welcome to my story....I must say I am flattered indeed by your kind words...there will be many twists in this story...I do hope you'll enjoy them all. I will say that I am enjoying several of your stories now and I wonder how do you hold on to the "thread" of so many diverse stories at once? Can't wait to see more of _Bound_ and _Estel's Shire Friend_ !

  


Iorheal....Ah...a picture was made by the old cook ( who we learn in this chapter is named Toleman)...he drew the picture upon parchment with quill and ink....it was the best I could come up with I'm afraid! Sam's hurt is only just beginning...soon Merry and Pippin shall have to learn of their dear cousin's predictament!

  


Endymion2....I hope you'll continue to not be too shocked...much evil, angst and despair in store for many in and around aht Fellowship....Anborn has not yet been brought into the story, save through Faramir's flashbacks when he was speaking to Aragorn about the ransom note....He will be "up" in about three chapters.....hang on, he is really evil!

  
  
  
  


Frodo awoke to pain, relentless and savagely forceful pain, pain which forced him mercilessly from the relative comfort of his unconscious state. He fought against opening his eyes, wanting desperately to return to the hazy void of pain that his slumber had offered. A tiny voice came to his ears and soft tears fell upon his face and he reluctantly relinquished his quest for the forgetfulness of deep sleep as he strove instead to hear the voice at his side. "Sir Frodo" a small voice whispered "you must wake up now, don't leave your Princess..." the whispered voice became shaky with a gradually building wave of tears and despair as it cried "don't leave me with the bad men...please Sir Frodo." The voice gave up it's attempt to wake him and now small arms were twining themselves about his neck, as vines about a trellis.

  


"Hush now Rosetta, I said yer not ta go and waken him, not till he's good and ready ta waken...he needs all the rest he can find if he's ta get strong and fight off the blood sickness Terren warned me of with deep cuttin's" another voice, a stronger voice said. Frodo, as if from a distance, recognized the steadiness of Kylos. A small moan issued forth from his lips as he struggled to speak, and eyes still closed he managed a tortured whisper "I'll not leave my Princess" his voice rasped, he was gifted with an exclamation of joy and another tight squeeze about the neck from the figure at his side. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself looking upon the tear stained face of the waif like figure of his Princess. He winced to see the toll his pain had taken on her and he spoke a little more firmly, trying to give the little one the impression of strength as he lifted a hand to stroke her dirty cheek "I'll not let the 'bad men' get you...for like the Ranger Aragorn and the Princess Arwin...it 'tis my job to protect _this_ Princess." He coughed with the strain of this extended speech and felt Kylos reach a hand to his neck as he was raised from the cot enough to take some water. Rosetta was all smiles as she beamed and fairly glowed in her childish delight at seeing her tale telling friend awake once more."I jest knew ye'd awaken...that ye'd not forget yer Princess" she whispered, a tear of happiness shining in her deep blue eyes. "Most assurdly not little one, I'd not forget you" the Hobbit said with a smile forced through his pain, touching ever so briefly upon his lips.

  


Kylos could see the pain that Frodo was trying so hard to mask, and sent Rosetta to find another fresh cup of water from the old cook who'd been instructed to assist them. Frodo sighed and shook his head a bit from side to side, trying to shake the haze of his slumber from him. He tried to sit up and was instantly reminded of his agony as he groaned involuntarily. Kylos hurriedly placed a supportive arm behind the ailing Hobbit and pulled him to a sitting position as he propped himself behind Frodo to offer the support he knew the injured Hobbit would need. Frodo hissed in pain as he was settled against the lad's chest 'why do I hurt so?' he found himself thinking as his gaze wandered to the foot of the bed and he saw the bloody dressings upon his foot. It all came back to him, the cot, the brutal kiss and the calm and detached demeanor of the man named 'Dalmer'. He trembled and suddenly felt cold as the little color he had drained from his face. Kylos, noticing the tremor in the frail body in front of him tightened his reassuring grip and waited for Frodo to speak. "How long have I slept?" the Hobbit asked warily, still shaken by the sight of the dressings upon his foot. "Nigh on two days sir, Dalmer tried ta wake ya once and then had me and Rosetta brought ta tend ye...he's given us the aid of the cook...fer what it's worth." The boy looked to Frodo's still bloody foot, it's thick linen wrappings tinged with the brown stains of old blood and the crimson marks of new, and asked "how are ya feeling sir? Ye've been through a hard time" the boy asked, concern and fear giving his words weight.

  


Frodo closed his eyes a moment and clenched his fists at the flashes of pain that radiated through his body with even the slightest movement "I've felt better," he said heavily and opening his eyes looked once more upon the offending limb" but worse than the pain, 'tis the weakness...I can scarce keep my eyes open" he mumbled, feeling his words begin to slur he asked "why am I so weak?". Kylos gestured to the bloody foot...." 'Tis the bleedin' sir, yer weak from the loss 'o yer blood." The stern faced boy looked to the bloody dressing upon the hobbit's foot..." 'Tis still seeping sir, I wanted it ta bleed clean...as Terren taught, ta prevent infection...but now I can't get the bleedin' ta stop" he said, an edge of fear creeping into his voice and then asked "do ya have a fever sir?". Frodo thought a moment on that, he did not want to scare the boy needlessly, but he knew his body well enough to recognize the signs of impending sickness. He looked grimly at the boy "not yet" he admitted.

  


Kylos glanced to the blood still seeping into the dressings about the hobbit's foot and then to the pale and grey cast of Frodo's skin as he reached to take the slender hand of the ringbearer in his, he was worried. He held the slender hand gently, giving the comfort of touch, whilst checking with growing alarm the dryness and growing rigidity of the skin beneath his fingers. Kylos knew that the hobbit's blood loss was taking the fluids from his body and he worried that he'd soon become fevered without fluids to sustain him. "Ye must drink all ye can sir, ye'll need the fluids ta help with the loss 'o blood" the boy said firmly. Frodo nodded, he felt so very weary, it was an effort just to hold his head erect as he leaned upon Kylos. 

  


Rosetta returned with a pitcher of water and a big smile, she handed the water to Kylos and plunked herself down on the floor next to her Sir Frodo, being careful not to come close to the injured leg. Kylos poured the water into a cup and gently placed the cup near to the hobbits lips. Frodo was so very weak, all he wanted to was sleep, but he looked to the worried eyes of his Princess and took a few sips of the water. Rosetta eyed him with concern wrinkling the corners of her eyes as she waited for him to finish his water. Frodo smiled gently at the little one by his side " 'tis like the nectar of the elves Princess" he said as he struggled to drink "the finest wines of Rivendell could not quench my thirst so well" he whispered weakly. Rosetta's eyes lost a little of their fearfulness and her face lit up with anticipation "oh tell me of Rivendell Sir Frodo, I do so love stories of elves" she squealed in excitement. " 'twould be a pleasure little one, but this storyteller needs more nectar" he said with a twinkle in his eye. Rosetta gigged and grabbed the pitcher once more "then you shall have the freshest nectar I can find" she said with a laugh as she went off in search of the old cook who would help get more water.

  


Kylos moved from behind Frodo and gently laid him down once more. Frodo felt the room spin as he changed position, little flashing lights could be seen from behind his clenched eyes and he waited for the dizziness to pass. Kylos watched the expressions of pain and discomfort upon the hobbit's face and knew he'd have to be honest with Frodo. "Yer blood loss is scarin' me Sir, I need ta find a way ta stop the bleedin' " the boy whispered anxiously. Frodo waved away his concerns and said "we'll speak of me later lad, tell me what you can of the others, in what manner of place have we been imprisoned?" Kylos looked to the opening of the cavern, the shadow of a pacing guard could be seen in the dim flickering light of a nearby torch. "It 'tis a rock quarry...but we don't dig the rocks...there are big men ta do that work." Kylos said softly and then continued " I don't know the number 'o men they got here sir, but they won't let us near to 'em, they keep us ta the back of the cave."

  


Frodo recalled a conversation he'd had with Aragorn, about the reconstruction of the ruined portions of the White city, and he suddenly realized that the men outside were quarrying for the rock needed to rebuild the glory of Gondor. He thought of the image of the men he'd seen outside the cave, large men with defeated and sullen looks upon their faces and legs bound with chains and weights to bind them to their tasks. It was starting to make sense to him now, the materials to rebuild the city were being gathered from far and wide, so many had died in the war that finding the men to work the quarries had proven difficult, and Aragorn had reluctantly given his permission to use prision labor. These men were certainly the most hardened of criminals, the ones who had resisted to the last the King's attempts to free them from their own evil, Prisioners of war, they had persisted in their killing and destroying even when peace was at hand. 'Oh Aragorn' the worried Hobbit thought 'do you know of this activity? Do you know that the beauty of your city is to be bought with the blood and toil of not only these accursed prisoners of war...but the children they'd made orphans of?' He asked himself.

  


Frodo was concerned about the tasks set for the children, knowing that they'd not long survive the brutality of quarry work, and he asked "what work have they set for the children?" Kylos looked around to be sure no one was within earshot "we are bein' sent to the far back tunnels where we are mining gold ...gold that only a few of the guards seem to know of, " Frodo nodded, it was beginning to make sense "how large are the tunnels you are to dig in?" "They are small sir, big enough only for little ones...and some 'o the tunnels seem ta go back a bit...these caves run deep" the boy said quietly. Frodo was fading, exhaustion making his voice weak, but his mind was set, he needed to know all he could to help find a way to escape. He forced himself to stay awake and grimaced as he tried to shift his position to sit up. Kylos quickly reached to help and soon had the injured Hobbit sitting up and leaning against the wall of the cavern. Frodo leaned his slightly warm cheek into the coolness of the clammy wall, welcoming the soothing relief it brought him. He continued his questions "How many guards are there?" he paused to take a deep breath to bolster his weary mind "Are there any among the guards who may yet have compassion?" he asked, hoping against all odds that not all the men here were filled with the cruelty of Dalmer. Kylos looked about the cave a moment and then turned back to whisper to Frodo "aye, the guard Galen and the old man cook....they call 'em Toleman...'e's the one that drew the parchments of ya" Kylos frowned at his thoughtlessness as he saw Frodo pale at the memory of the events the cook had witnessed. 

  


Frodo fought to keep his mind focused on his questions, he was so very weary and knew his time with Kylos might be limited, he pushed himself to continue to glean as much information as he could from the worried boy beside him. "The guard called Galen" Frodo was finding his breathing becoming labored as he fought to maintain control, he took a deep breath and continued " the one you mentioned....why do you feel he may have compassion for our plight?". Kylos smiled a soft and understanding smile "he is as taken by Rosetta as you yerself sir..." a shadow of pain crossed the lad's face as he explained "in the days before the dark times...he had a daughter near ta Rosetta in age. He came back from his duties as a soldier of Gondor ta find his home and farm destroyed...all he'd had burnt and his wee ones dead and untended." The boy's face was lined with pain and he looked for a moment to be the boy of twelve that he really was as sorrow and loneliness were allowed to reveal themselves.

  


The weary Hobbit looked intently towards the youth beside him, he'd heard the catch in Kylos' voice and ached inside for he knew that this lad had assumed the mantle of adulthood when he'd found his own parents killed. He could see that this story was difficult for Kylos to tell and he reached his cold slim hand to the boy's sturdy fingers in comfort. In that instant, the vulnerable and saddened lad disappeared and as a look of pain and disgust crossed the boy's face, a hardening set his features into an angle of cold detachment. Frodo watched a cloud of darkness settle upon the boy as he once again became the hard and cold adult his survival had called upon him to be.

  


Frodo sighed inwardly; Galen's family, Kylos's youth, the welfare of the orphans...was there to be no end to the pain and malice brought forth upon the world by Sauron? Kylos pulled his hand away from Frodo, impatient with himself for letting his guard down and showing weakness. Frodo respected the boy's wish to hide his pain and while he longed to wrap comforting arms about the lad, to tell him all would be better soon, he knew he could make no such promises. He added the pain and misery of the hardened boy to his own inexhaustible vault of memories that filled him with with guilt, and moved on to questions of survival.

  


"How fare the other children?" Frodo asked, concern and fear echoed in his words. Kylos stared long at Frodo, "not all the guards like children" he said and then continued thoughtfully " and it appears that some may like them a too much." Frodo stared in horror as the realization of Kylos' words sunk in and he recalled the vicious humiliation he'd suffered at the hands of Thad and Mendal. He realized in that moment that he would have to do all in his power to remain with the children, that he could not risk that their foul attentions would be brought upon the orphans. He contemplated the reality of his condition, he, in his injured state, did not pose a threat and would be unable to escape. He sighed, he would have to find a way to persuade his captors of his worth, that he might be able to assist them in their attempts to control and work the children. As his mind wandered these possibilities Rosetta returned with another pitcher of water and a smile that brightened the dank confines of the dreary cavern. Through his weariness and pain, he smiled. It brought him no small measure of comfort to be around the open and loving nature of the blond haired and spirited child bouncing towards him. Glancing to Kylos, he saw a wave of warmth and protectiveness wash across the steely expression of the hardened youth as he beheld his sister. 'I must do all in my power to keep them safe' Frodo vowed to himself 'I will bring them back to Rumeil and Terren....they have lost too much already.' he thought.

  


"Sir Frodo...look, the nice man gave me an apple...see?" Rosetta said with glee as she inclined her head in the direction of the opening to the cavern. Frodo smiled tiredly at her and then looked to the door to see the tall, broad chested figure of a man approach. The blond haired, and ruddy faced man had a gruff voice that matched his stocky frame, but Frodo relaxed as he perceived the kind undertones in the man's voice. "Ye've 'ad the best 'o care with this little mite eh?" the guard named Galen asked as he ruffled Rosetta curls. Rosetta smiled broadly and then sat next to Frodo to eat her apple. "Yes," Frodo agreed with a gentle smile "my care has been the very best" he said as he looked affectionately at his Princess. Galen looked to Kylos and then to the blood soaked dressings upon the hobbit's foot as he said matter of factly "ye'll be needin' more dressin's fer that wound then youngin'...'e's bled pretty steady hasn't 'e?". Kylos glanced overtly at Rosetta, he hoped the guard would understand that he didn't want to scare her further, for she'd seen enough cruelty these past days.

  


He needn't have worried, for Galen pulled Kylos aside as Rosetta chattered on to Frodo about elves, princesses and dreams of fair lands. The hobbit wearily noted Kylos and Galen's departure and did his best to stay attentive to the five year old lass by his side, but he felt the slow inexorable sinking of his body, as his conscious thoughts were slowly pulled away from him and the words of his Princess faded in and out of his mind.

  


The stocky guard made sure that they were out of earshot of Frodo and Rosetta " 'e's in a bad way lad, 'e won't tolerate much more blood loss." he said harshly. Kylos nodded, eyes wide with fear "yes, that I know, but what am I to do? I have changed the dressings and fear to tighten them further or he'll lose the blood flow to his foot." Galen looked with pity to boy before him, Kylos was glancing fearfully at Frodo and the depth of his concern could clearly be seen in the furrowing of his brow. 

  


The stocky guard sighed and wondered once again why he'd thrown his lot in with the the likes of Dalmer and Finarian. They, all of them, indeed all men in Middle Earth had experienced loss as a result of the war, yet not all men turned their hatred to crime as he'd been persuaded to do. He was living a life of shame, holding children prisoner to make money, he hated himself for allowing his anger at the world to lead him down this path. He looked to the fair features of the ailing hobbit, the sunny smile of the one named Rosetta and once more upon the hardened face of the lad before him and he made his choice. Perhaps, there was a chance to make right of his choices after all and he decided that helping the serious lad, his spark of a sister and the sadly noble halfling would give him back his pride and light the way for him to begin his life over. 

  


Just then, a noise from the cot brought Galen from his thoughts abruptly, "Sir Frodo, no... wake up! Please...yer scarin' yer Princess" she cried. Kylos spun around and Galen watched in horror as the tiny body began to twitch and shake as the hobbit tried to control his mind and fight off the convulsion. Frodo tried to maintain control, sought to still his shaking body but felt his will broken as his body was assaulted by wave upon wave of violent tremors and he vaguely heard voices through a grey mist. As his body wrested control from his mind, pinpoints of light filled his vision, as stars upon a velvet sky, and sound ceased to exist. His body thrashed and flailed about while Galen and Kylos fought to keep the hobbit from falling to the floor. Kylos was terrified by the vision of Frodo's body shaking without control and despite his resolve to maintain control, he felt a tear slide down his face as he stared helplessly to Galen.

  


When Frodo's body had finally stilled, the man released his grip and looked to the blood soaked bandages upon the hobbit's foot. The dressing could contain the blood no longer and a bright pool was gathering slowly underneath the cot. Rosetta had stared in shock as Frodo's body had shaken, but the sight of the blood was more than she could bear and she burst into tears and began to sob. Kylos let lose his grip on the hobbit's leg and wrapped his arms soothingly about his sister and he sought to still her cries, as he stared, lost into the eyes of Galen. The man sighed, the hobbit would die with continued blood loss, they'd have to cauterize the wound.

"Kylos lad" the man said gently "the wound'll have ta be sealed." Kylos looked puzzled as he continued to rock his sister in his arms he replied "we've tried all manner 'o dressings and such and none'll stop the blood." Galen sighed and lowered his voice, not wishing to distress the wee one in Kylos's arms "not dressed lad, _sealed_...the wound 'tis bleedin' from the bone, it must be cauterized with a heated blade." Rosetta's continued tears did not allow her to hear Galens' words but Kylos blanched as the impact of Galens' words came to rest in his fear filled mind.

  


Kylos soothed his sister as best he could and then brought her to the old cook, with orders from Galen to keep the child away, and he returned to Frodo's bedside. Galen was taking strips of linen he'd been using as dressings for the hobbit's wounds to tie Frodo securely to the cot. Kylos started to protest but Galen stopped him " 'tis for his own good lad, the pain 'o this'll drive him nigh onto insanity if he awakens whilst 'tis being done." He placed his large roughened hand upon the lad's shoulder to steady him and went to get his sword, which was heating in the brazier near the opening of the cavern. 

  


Frodo moved his head a little from side to side as he began to gain consciousness. He felt the stiffness of his muscles and the pain of his throbbing foot as he gradually became aware of his surroundings. He tentatively tried to move his arm to as he sought to sit up only to find himself bound to the cot, as he'd been before. The memory of his treatment at the hands of Dalmer came to him and his eyes flew open as he sought to find Kylos. As he was about to question Kylos he saw from the corner of his eye the figure of a large man approaching and his mind was overcome with fear. He opened his mouth the scream, only to find it covered by the large roughened hand of Galen, he whimpered in his panic and frantically thrust his head from side to side. Galen looked to the wide fear filled eyes of the hobbit and then to Kylos " I've got ta do this quick lad, I can't be caught helpin' ya." Frodo felt the heat of Galen's blade and his eyes opened wider yet in his panic as he saw Galen lift the sword and bring it's hilt down upon his head. 

  


The guard moved without pause to the foot of the bed where Kylos had removed the dressing from Frodo's foot and had cleansed the wound, grabbing the foot he passed the heated blade across the wound for a brief moment. The smell of seared flesh and burnt hair wafted over the cot and Kylos nearly gagged from the assault upon his senses. Galen set the sword down carefully and moved to where Kylos stood, rooted to the spot, frozen in shock and he took the lad in his arms. Kylos started in surprise, he hadn't allowed anyone to do that in a very long time and he stiffened involuntarily. Galen sighed, he could tell that the boy'd been hurt too by the cruel events of the past months, but he couldn't take the time to ponder that now. He backed away from the boy and took his face in his hands to secure his full attention "Kylos, ye must wash the wound with cool water every hour and keep it covered. It'll bleed no more, but it will blister and will bring the halfling pain. If his pain becomes too much, send fer me and I 'll set him back ta sleep." 

  


The last comment brought Kylos from his state of shock and he glared at the man before him "set him back ta sleep? Is that what ye call what ye did just now?" Galen gestured for Kylos to keep his voice down as he replied "aye, it 'tis the only way lad....I am charged with keepin' ya quiet and outta sight, outta the notice of all...and if I can't do that then ye'll all be in danger." Kylos stared, his anger not allowing him to comprehend, Galen tried again "This is a prisoner of war camp, run by the King, and whilst he does not know of all that happens in the caves, he knows we're here. Regular visits are made by the King's procurement officers as they bring food stuffs and arrange for the transport of quarried rock back ta the city." Kylos stared numbly, still not understanding the urgency of Galens request. Galen gave his explanation one last try

" Dalmer won't risk his mining, he's too greedy, and if it 'twere a choice between being discovered and killin' the lot of ya.....ye'd all be sacrificed...the halfling too."

  
  



	17. Chapter 17: Comforting

The Faces of War

Chapter 17: Comforting

  


Disclaimer: This story is based upon the wonderful characters created by J.R.R Tolkien, I gain nothing from further exploration of the adventures that _might_ have happened....except the chance to exercise my imagination!

  


Thanks to all who have taken a few moments to review....while the story is nearly done in it's rough draft, I have made changes based on the reviews you given me thus far! Thank you for "participating" in the creation of this story....

  


Becca.....Frodo will indeed be rescued....after many adventures, lots of pain and angst.The characters of the story will all emerge stronger for the trials they've experienced. 

  


ClaudiaofBree....Galen is a battle scared and hardened individual, who though not perfect, has his compassionate moments...he will "be there" for Frodo and Princess again...restores a bit of Frodo flagging faith in the world of men....

  


endymion2....Dalmer will indeed have to "step in" to protect his hostage when his brother returns to the quarry....Galen isn't all angel...he has his weak moment, but overall his war hardened heart begins to "crack" under the influence of Frodo and Rosetta....he will play a part in the future rescue of our beleaguered hobbit...Aragorn is indeed puzzled by the disappearance of his friend, he does try to find clues...but soon will have to be little more aggressive in his actions....and the super ruffian waits in the wings.....

  


Iorhael....nasty business cauterizing...it really "was" done as a medical procedure...I can only imagine how inflicting that "treatment" upon the heels of some other gruesome battle wound must have been like....the "cure" might have been worse than the original ailment!

  


FrodoBaggins87...I am trying not to be to graphic in the sensitive realm of "personal matters" for our dear Hobbit...it is being inflicted upon him just to show how even the most unimaginable hurts can be "gotten through" if you have faith, love and friends at your side....Frodo will endure more pains...but perhaps not of that nature...I will be more careful to warn at the beginning of each chapter...do know that this pain serves a purpose in the end and that our Hobbit comes out of this stronger! I'm enjoying your newest story as well...keep it up!

  
  


Pippin and Merry strode through the cool grey hallways of the palace, neither speaking, but each knowing the thoughts of the other. Aragorn's message had been brief ...._Comeback, Frodo's in grave peril, Sam needs you_. They'd ridden through the night and leaving Gimli to see to the ponies, they'd immediately sought Sam's quarters. The message had only reached their camp the day before, and as it had taken the King's messenger 3 days to find the ever moving encampment of the Procurement officers, Frodo had been gone from the palace six days and Merry's face was grim with fear. 

  


Gandalf met them outside the door of Frodo's chambers, long white robes sweeping about him as he strode to the end of the hall to meet them. Merry's dark and cold expression did nothing to hid his fear, anger and frustration and as he saw the wizard he let his emotions take flight "why is it we've been held in the dark about this Gandalf? Why were we informed so late?" the stern hobbit asked voice shaking. Gandalf raised an eyebrow to Pippin and received only a worried shake of the younger hobbit's head in return so he turned back to Merry, put his hand upon the hobbit's shoulder and began to walk with them back to the door of Frodo's chamber. "My dearest hobbit, we shall speak of it momentarily". Merry would not be soothed and as they reached the door he said "Why no one knows more of Frodo than us, and Sam, why weren't we told?" Gandalf sighed and raising a bushy eyebrow responded "My dear Merridoc, you were sent for when we discovered he'd been taken from the camp." Merry's face was sullen, a frown etched upon his normally smiling features as Pippin chimed in " what 'e means Gandalf...is why were we not told when Frodo's sadness took hold?" his young face frowning in bewilderment "why were we not sent for when Sam first became worried?"

  


"Because I'm always worried of him" a sad voice said from the doorway of the chamber. They turned to see a pale and tired looking Sam shaking his head before them "yer right 'o course Mr. Merry, but it's been a hard time fer me of late, wantin' ta respect Mr. Frodo's need fer solitude and balancin' it with all of us worrin' over 'im." Sam turned his back on the trio at the door and headed back into the darkened and lonely chamber. He sat heavily upon the bed and he absent mindedly ran his hand over the soft fabric of Frodo's nightshirt, folded neatly and waiting for it's occupant. 

  


Pippin and Merry looked to one another and followed the wizard into the chamber. They came and quietly took their places on either side of their worried and quiet friend. The wizard's gruff voice broke the heavy silence of the room " Now Samwise, the fellowship finds itself worrying over you my dear hobbit. You've not left this room since we received the ransom note two days ago." The wizard's voice softened "you can not help Frodo through your sadness Sam, no matter how well intentioned." The Wizard looked to the hobbits on either side of Sam "he has sat here for two days with no food and little sleep for all that time, he was well on his way to being exhausted before we received the note. I would ask that you two use the hobbit sense you are so proud of to take care of our Sam until Frodo returns to do so." Gandalf said firmly then added "Sam, I leave it to you to tell of the events you feel so responsible for, while I return to Aragorn to hear of the scout's report." He turned to walk out the door, but spun on his heel as he reached the doorway and said "Sam, Frodo feels your pain too friend, as he would your hope."

  


After Gandalf left, Merry set his lips in a hard thin line and raising his brow to his cousin went to seek some hobbit comfort. Pippin sat near to Sam, not knowing what to say, but offering the comfort of his arm about the gardeners shoulder. He looked sideways to the solid face of Frodo's loyal gardener and best friend, he sighed and gently massaged Sam's shoulder as he listened to Sam try not to cry. He appraised the damage the last days had wrought upon Sam and did not like what he saw, the normally ruddy complexion of the sandy haired hobbit was pale, he had dark circles beneath his reddened eyes and he ran his hand over Frodo's nightshirt endlessly as he fought to maintain some contact with his master. Pippin had seen his share of frightful and horrific sights during the war, as had Merry, yet he imagined that none that he'd seen would ever compare to the visions that Sam held with in his heart. He thought of Frodo, his scholarly , kind hearted and gentle cousin, he thought of all the ways that Frodo sought to hide his pain from others and he knew that he and Merry would never hear the full tale of those days in Mordor, at least not from Frodo. The young hobbit looked carefully at Sam, he wondered if there were parts of Frodo's tale that Sam carried, parts of their story that Sam would allow to burn inside him rather than burden his master with it's telling. He was struck by the realization that ' though it'll pain him to tell of Frodo's deeds, he'll never heal ...nor will Frodo till the tale is told.' Pippin rubbed Sam's back and leaned his head to the sturdy hobbit's shoulder ' he can't keep the misery of two...not even his stalwart frame can bear that burden'. Pippin's thought's were interrupted by a swift knock at the door and the entrance of Merry and several pages bearing dinner trays.

  


Merry had taken charge in typical hobbit fashion and he soon had Sam sitting down to a nourishing meal of mushroom stew, baked taters, apple tansey and a rich, soothing custard. The room was silent save for the clink of knife and fork for a few moments as the three friends got down to the business of eating. As they finished, and nibbled to fill up the corners, Merry pulled out his pipe and pouch...then finding a spare offered some longbottom leaf to Sam. Sam looked to the offered pipe and gently taking it in his hands spoke for the first time. "I tain't had a taste 'o this since Lorien...Frodo won't touch it no more...said he'd had enough of smoke and ashes upon Mt. Doom." he said with a sad smile, then wiped a tear from his eyes. 

  


As they lit up, Pippin and Merry looked to one another in knowing silence and pain. Merry broke the smoke filled silence " Sam lad, you'll not do Frodo any good moping about" he said sternly....but then softening his voice continued "he'd not want you to worry yourself sick...and I don't think you'd want him worrying when he needs to keep his wit's about him to save himself and these orphans." Sam nodded "aye Master Merry, I know that...and 'tis not my usual way ta go shuttin' myself up with me worries...it's jest...these past days...I've felt such an air 'o sadness." He drew on his pipe a bit "the sad feelin's are strongest 'ere...in Mr. Frodo's chamber."

Pippin looked a bit confused, not understanding why anyone would opt for sadness "Sam, why ever would ya seek to stay in such sadness?"

  


Sam got up and slowly walked to the windowseat, he looked out upon the city. Ravaged though it was, it still held and air of grand beauty and mystery that was so unlike the Shire, he shook his head. " 'Tis a fair question Mr. Pippin...I guess I get a sense somehow, in some way I'm not jest feelin' my sadness...but his too...like how he's feelin' right now, the pain, the fear, the loneliness....I feel it too." Merry nodded and looked to his younger cousin knowingly, he understood how the pull of deep friendship could make you feel as though you were with those you loved...he and Pippin had shared such moments and sometimes he felt like it was only the certainly of Pippins love that had brought him through this man sized hell. Sam sat upon the Window seat, the same seat his master'd sat upon not a week ago....and he continued "I feel as if my bein' here is helpin; me reach ta his mind, his spirts are awful low and I don't know how much more pain he can take...I don't know if he can rouse himself from his melancholy ta help himself through this pain...and so I sit here..."

  


Pippin stared quizzically at Sam "what pain are ya speaking of Sam? We know he's been taken....but how do ya know he's in pain?" Pippins green eyes bore into Sam, worried, demanding and relentless in their gaze. Sam sighed and putting down his pipe he wiped a tear from his eye as he reached to an ornately carved box upon the window seat, he opened the box and removed some yellow and brown stained parchments. He shuddered as he handed the first of the pictures to Merry "two days ago Aragorn received these from the garrison down ta the river." Sam said softly. Merry looked at the drawing, his cousin, his beloved Frodo lying tied to a bed, fear and defiance shining in his eyes. Merry handed the drawing to Pippin and held out his hand for the next drawing that Sam offered. He looked to Sam's face as the next drawing was given to him and he saw the fair haired hobbit's lip tremble in his attempt to stay his tears. Merry frowned and looked down at the drawing, what he saw took his breath and he clenched his teeth as he steadied his emotions. This drawing was also of Frodo, tied to the cot with a look of horror and pain in his eyes as blood ran down his face. Merry briefly noticed a cluster of men standing by Frodo's feet. He handed the second sheet to Pippin and waited for Sam's explanation.

  


Pippin gasped "These are jest dreadful Sam....I can see ye think they've hurt him...but perhaps it t'ain't to bad." Pippin said trying to reassure his friends. Merry was looking over Pippins shoulder to view the drawing another time as Sam pressed a third parchment to his hand, this one stained with brown, Sam would not release Merry's hand but instead with a deep breath slowly opened the stained paper with his two hands wrapped securely about Merry's. Sam's voice shook as he explained quietly "this to was found at the river garrison" he unwrapped the paper to reveal a gory lump of flesh, blood and hair. Merry's face whitened and he began to tremble slightly as his senses suddenly were drawn to the the second drawing,he looked again at the drawing in Pippin's hand, the men near to Frodo's feet and the knife in one of their hands. His eyes opened wide and he began to shake and breathe heavily as Pippins wondering gaze caught the level of his cousins' distress. Pippin looked wildly from one hobbit to the other, Sam's reddened eyes, Merry's pale face and he found his eyes drawn to the bloody lump upon the parchment. As the slow dawning of such a cruel reality began to come to him, he was forced to look once more upon the second drawing and as he saw the knife, the malicious grin and the unspeakable evil in front of him, he felt the room begin to spin. A rising and vile heat in his throat alerted him to his need and he fell to his knees as Sam quickly placed the privy pot before him. All of Pippin's agony, his hatred and his fear for his beloved cousin came to him and he expelled his despair with force and purpose as he vomited again and again, tears and trembling took him and he gasped from the intensity of his misery.

  


Merry sent for Aragorn and soon the King had soothed Pippin with one of his potent sleeping draughts and had gently placed him to sleep in Frodo's bed. As Pippin's tears slowly faded and he fell into the dreamless sleep of sedation, Aragorn spoke a few soft words to Merry and left the two hobbits to comfort one another. Merry sat beside Pippin and stroked his unruly curls gently "I do not know how much more pain we are supposed to bear Sam...how much more my Pip can take of this unrelenting cruelty...how much pain Frodo can outlast...I just don't know any more."

He said softly as he turned his tear stained face to the strength of the gardener. Sam clenched his own eyes closed to block the pain a moment before answering "I don't know Mr. Merry...I don't know how ta bear more 'n we have already, but Mr. Frodo would tell us 'look fer the good' ". 

  


Merry thought of the incongruence of that statement under their current circumstances and he snorted "look for the good? Sam, even my good natured and gentle hearted cousin would find the hatred of these acts an affront to all that is right and proper in our world." Merry's eyes flashed his anger. Sam nodded grimly "aye, he would...and that is why he'd tell ya ta look fer the good....for when evil seeks to bring ya down, it 'tis the easy path ta let it take ya." Sam sighed and even smiled in gentle remembrance of his master " 'tis the strong one who can find the good when it 'tis the hardest ta find." Merry was too tired , worried and scared to engage in an argument about where Frodo's philosophies fit into the world of men right now, he ran his hand distractedly through his curls and changed the topic.

  


"What news has Aragorn gathered from his scouts?" Merry asked as he tucked the blanket one last time about Pippin, then stood and walked to the window seat. He sat down, filled his pipe and waited for Sam to answer. "None ta speak of , he's not found any settlements within 60 leagues of the city that can still sustain life." Sam replied. Merry nodded, in their travels they'd noticed the same thing, the damaged population of Gondor had fled to it's largest city seeking the protection of their King. "Yes" Merry agreed "we've found the same thing, unless there were a few soldiers stationed with 'em, people were scarcely seen in a 100 league radius of the city." Merry drew upon his pipe thoughtfully "but Aragorn must have a sense of where some folk reside...where it is that slaves might be used." Sam sat beside Merry "Slaves perhaps, but not children as slaves." he rubbed his temples, he was feeling muddled, his emotions kept getting in the way of his thinking. He shook his head " I jest don't understand what uses there'd be fer children as slaves, Big strong lads yes...but wee ones? Merry, it jest isn't making any sense and yet I know if we could jest see what foul purpose these men 'ave fer the children...well I think it's the key ta finding Mr. Frodo." Sam's voice drifted off as he recalled Frodo's awakening from his trance, the fear that had shone in his huge blue eyes as he'd seen the future of the children. He wished he'd spent more time talking with his master about his fears, instead of fussing over his health. Sam and Merry sat in companionable silence, the smoke from their pipes drifting through the room even as their own thoughts, thoughts and fears for the cousin and friend that they both loved.

  


Aragorn sent for more lanterns and directed his aides to have food and drink sent as he met into the late hours of the night with the members of his inner council. They were gathered, once more, about the map table to discuss the news just in from the most recent scout. Gimli huffed in annoyance as he blustered "yer messengers took their time findin' us Aragorn, why we coulda been here days ago". Legolas put a quieting hand upon the stout shoulder of the agitated dwarf "it matters not friend, you could do nothing more than we" he said sadly. That earned a resounding "hurmmppff" from the cantankerous and concerned dwarf. 

  


Aragorn moved closer to the map table "Gimli, you've procured your quarry stones from what passes?" Gimli stepped upon the pedestal of the table to better sight his objective. "The only quarries with men enough ta mine Aragorn are here...near ta the third peak, here at the head of the Arnor pass and this one here, the site of yer prisoner 'o war encampment." Aragorn frowned at the mention of the prisoners, he'd only reluctantly agreed to allow these most hardened remnants of the war to be used as laborers, and the thought of it still did not sit easy with him. Aragorn pushed his regrets aside and continued "in your dealings with the quarry masters, did you see anything that would indicate the presence of children?" The dwarf shook his head grimly "there were precious few wee ones Aragorn, a few beggin' in the garrisons...an orphan here and there with a peasant family...no yer land 'tis barren of the little ones" he finished sadly. 

  


Faramir approached the table from the shadows of a near by window. "Perhaps my lord, you might send some spies of agents of the King to work in their midst to glean news of Frodo and the children?" he suggested. Aragorn shook his head "I have thought of that Faramir, I am afraid that men of this hardened disposition will be too spacious of outsiders for that to work." The King sighed and stared long and hard at the map, an idea gradually began to form in his mind and he shook his head as he pursed his lips, then turning to Gimli once more he asked "How goes the work of the hobbits?" Gimli, happy to be able to offer news of a more positive nature launched into a description of Merry and Pippin's work as procurement officers. "Ye'd be amazed Aragorn ta see Mr. Merry working his wiles ta obtain what he wants...he's slick that one is...I do believe he could talk an Orc out of his armor....and Master Peregrin...well with his charm, let me just say that when it comes ta findin' items of comfort...out hobbits are more skilled than any wizard" he said his voice filled with pride at the exploits of his young friends. Aragorn nodded, he was not at all surprised by the ingenuity of the hobbits, he just hoped that combined with some subtlety and discretion that they'd find information as easily as they searched out supplies.

  



	18. Chapter 18: Trusting

Faces of War

Chapter 18: Trusting

Disclaimer: The characters, at least most of them, are the invention of J.R.R Tolkien. I am just borrowing them for a while!

FrodoBaggins87 There is more darkness for out dear hobbit...but he discovers new reasons for living along the way....The King has a plan and in this chapter he puts the wheels in motion!

Endymion2 Aragorn begins to see the value of "good hobbit sense" as he begins his rescue plan at last.....the "super ruffian" is still coming...a chapter or two away...and I have no doubt that he will find ways to "get what he wants" from Mr. Baggins!

Becca Hold on...there are many ways to be "rescued" and Frodo will discover the strength he needs to go one with the help of the little ones by his side!

Iorhael Pippin had my sympathies during that scene as well! The hobbits will soon be feeling a little less "powerless" as they fear for their friend.

Shire Baggins Merry and Pippin will use their hobbity skills...their wit, warmth and ingenuity to help Frodo...and support Sam as he blames himself for Frodo's pain....the strength of love and companionship can be formidable! 

Time stood still in the dark confines of the dank cavern, neither day nor night it seemed to be, the beauty of morning or evening lost in the grayness, trapped in the void of his pain. Damp; a musty and old odor struck his senses as he slowly came back to some semblance of awareness.

Scratchy; the rough texture of the blanket covering him was causing his cheek to itch. He vaguely wondered if it was worth the energy to reach a hand to cure the itch. Thinking himself still bound, and consumed by the darkness about and within him, he did not even try to will his arms to move. He took a deep breath, it's hitching feeling offering only the weight of fear and pain, not the satisfaction that the air of full lungs brings. The air was stale, stagnant, dead, no hint of freshness, motion or life. He felt just like the air around him, a heavy lethargy upon his mind. If it weren't for the pain of his body, he was not sure he'd know he was alive, he wasn't sure he'd care.

He gradually became aware of another who shared his air, one who occupied his space and sought to bring him back with words of comfort. He shuddered as he felt a small hand softly stroke his lank curls, stale sweat causing tangles to snag the little hand upon occasion. The persistent hand kept to it's course, tangles or no, and continued their mindless path from crown to chin as little fingers worked to leave comfort in their wake. A small voice whispered, then cried

"ye must wake Sir Frodo...don't leave me to the bad men...please take me from this tale Sir Frodo". He felt a lone tear and tasted salt as it dribbled down his cheek. The voice sounded of pain he thought...then he remembered.

His last wakeful moment, the white face of Kylos staring in shock, not moving or protesting, watching, only watching as more agony was forced upon him. He recalled the debilitating horror of being bound once more, the shadow of a large man and a heated sword. The feel of shattering pain upon his head as the smell of burnt hair and molten flesh crept through his layers of agony and despair. He felt adrift, wanting only a release from his pain, a safe harbor in which to rest his weary mind. He vowed he would not wake to pain, he could not face the torment of others pleasures, shouldn't endure the sight of a world that sought only to maim and control it's smallest occupants. He allowed the emptiness of his mind numbing sorrows and the bleak colors of his relinquished memories to pull him once more to the refuge of sleep as he refused to wake once more. 

Kylos sighed, shook his head and looked sadly upon the crumpled form of the ringbearer. He took in the pale face, sweat darkened locks and shuddering breaths of the hobbit beside him. Rosetta had, after many tearful entreaties, wrapped herself within the limp arms of her 'sir Frodo' and had drifted off to sleep. Her rosebud lips and childish brow finally relaxed in the surrender of her rest, she had cried herself to sleep and the traces of her tears had left the shimmer of silver lines coursing down her cheeks. For a moment the stern young boy allowed himself the luxury of anger, who was this fair skinned and fine talking halfling to be making his sister so sad? Had she not seen enough sadness in her young life? How dare Frodo open himself, humble himself, share himself just enough to have his little sister feel the hope of love once more? He sat beside the pallet of the ailing hobbit and stroked the pale cheek of his precious sister. He found himself thinking that Rosetta had had enough of sadness, enough sadness and pain to last a life time and then some...how dare this halfling show her the openness and risk of love once more...only to retreat from her and leave her in such pain? 

He wanted, more than anything to feel anger, to sustain himself with hatred, to justify his feelings with a desire for revenge. He could not, as he looked to his sister, saw the ease of her face and the comfort of her posture as she snuggled within the curve of the hobbits arm, he too felt love. He clenched his hands, the tightness of his fists not giving him the release his emotions so desperately sought, he felt tears well up and impatiently shrugged them aside. He did not want the complication of love, he wanted only the sustenance of food, clothes and shelter...or at least that is what he had thought he'd wanted. He buried his tired face in his hands, in the short week he'd known the ringbearer, he'd found a friend, a fellow fighter and one who understood his treasure. He ran his hands through the yellow curls that peaked out from beneath Rosetta's kerchief, until he'd met Frodo, she alone had, in this post war world been the force that controlled his emotions. As he watched the labored rise and fall of the hobbit's frail chest, he knew that he had to fight to bring his new friend back, back to the justice of the King, back to the 

goodness that still existed in this world....back to his Sam.

  


Aragorn and Gandalf stood by the fully provisioned carts and once more reviewed the task the King had set before the hobbits. Merry and Pippin consulted the list of supplies to be bartered as Sam looked to the status of his cooking goods and the well being of the ponies. Gimli spent a last minute with the Elf and when all seemed ready, the two carts packed and secured, Aragorn called them over. "We have no certain knowledge of Frodo's whereabouts, from all the scouts have learned, the three mining camps are the only places in need of forced labor." The King said. The three hobbits nodded and Gimli crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest as the King continued. "Be most careful my friends, for all of these mines are unpleasant and are worked by unhappy souls." He paused a moment and placed a gentled hand upon Merry's shoulder as he looked sternly to the hobbit "I am counting on you to keep you wits about you, use your cleverness...do not act in a rash or impulsive manner." His gaze shifted from Merry to Sam's sturdy form, he turned and kneeling in front of Frodos loyal friend and servant said "we will find Frodo and the children Sam, but know this my friend, any one craven enough to take the ringbearer and children as captives will not hesitate to take another halfling." 

Sam stared defiantly into the eyes of his trusted friend and new King "aye, be that as it may Strider, if they've taken my master and there's a chance 'o findin' him by bein' taken meself...well, ye know I'll let em take me too Sir" he said, his tone challenging the caution in Aragorns voice. Merry and Pippin, looking on from their position near to the carts, nodded their whole hearted agreement. Aragorn looked from one hobbit to the next and sighed as he stood up and walked to Gimli's side as he reiterated "I fear then what Sam has said to be true, and to you master Dwarf I charge the safety of these hobbits."

Gimli scowled and was about to offer his support to Sam's statement when Legolas joined in, speaking to the hobbits, he said " Well we elves understand of your desire to rescue Frodo..." turning to Gimli with a smile said "and well we understand both the stubborn natures of dwarves and hobbits. The fair haired elf looked to Aragorn for permission to continue, Aragorn nodded. "A contingency of elves will join me two days hence as they left Mirkwood a week ago. We will trail you to each of the camps, to assist you Gimli in your attempts to keep the hobbit's out of trouble." 

Pippin, looking rather indignant about the elves last statement, opened his mouth to protest when Sam stepped in "tis no good protesting Mr. Pippin, ye know they're right" he looked about him from one face to another "they've saved us from our best intentions before." Sam said, his good hobbit sense shining through. Aragorn smiled his thanks to Sam, then his eyes darkened with pain as he told of his plans. "I fear that I am needed here to qwell the fear and unrest that is arising in the refugee camps. Lord Faramir and I will be gathering the ransom...though I would give all in my Kingdom to have Frodo back" The deep and eloquent voice of the King broke in his pain..." I hope your efforts will prove successful long before I am forced to give a single coin in the name of such depravity." Sam watched as the clouds of anger and despair raced across the features of the Ranger who'd become King. The good natured hobbit saw what such an admission of near defeat cost Aragorn, for he had protected and weathered many ill happenings for the fellowship as he bore the cloak of "Strider" that he seemed unable to now as King.

Aragorn and Gandalf wished all well one last time as Legolas pulled Gimli aside "Aragorn would not speak of it in front to the hobbits my friend, but you shall know, the prisoner of war camp is rumored to be holding Orcs among their workers." Gimli stared to the elf in disbelief as Legolas sought to soothe him " it is but yet a rumor, but be most careful my friend, be most careful."

The fear filled quiet of the children's cavern was abruptly challenged as several burley and loud guards forced their way among the sleeping children waking them with kicks and harsh grunts. An old man, stooped and as grey as the gruel he dished out, walked from pallet to pallet filling wooden bowls with unappetizing porridge. The wizened old cook looked furtively about, eyes fixing on no one child, but taking in the scene of tired resignation and fearful acceptance as the children readied themselves for another day in the mine. 

Rosetta stirred and turning from the warmth of her position underneath Frodo's arm she tilted her head upwards to softly place her lips upon the pale cheek of the ringbearer. She pulled herself up further and ran her chubby fingers along the side of Frodo's dirty chin "Sir Frodo?" her tiny voice questioned "Sir Frodo?" she entreated as her voice began to waiver, her lips trembled in her efforts not to cry " 'tis morning Sir Frodo....ye must awaken ta have yer breakfast" she saw no sign of movement under her shaking hand and she tried again to waken her friend "please Frodo, please don't leave me alone in this story" she begged as she hung her head and began to cry.

Frodo felt the lightness of Rosetta's fingers as they danced upon his face, felt the soft pleading of her kisses and the loneliness of her tears. The shadow, which had wrapped itself about him so completely began at last to loosen it's grip. He fought to shake the darkness from him, the evil dreams that he had been wandering were once more left behind as he, with the greatest of efforts allowed his hand to open and find hers. He slowly wrapped his fingers about hers and pursing his lips made sounds to comfort this child, this light at his side. Rosetta lifted her face to his, joy and concern battling upon the sweetness of her face as she witnessed the the great weariness that Frodo fought as he tried to open his eyes. She wiggled closer and taking his thin pale face in the grasp of her pudgy hands kissed his face eagerly, like a puppy greeting it's master, she used her love to bring him back to her.

Frodo's lips twitched in a smile as he finally found his sky blue eyes gazing into the depth of her stormy blue ones "Your Princess saved you Sir Frodo, just like Arwen and the King" she whispered with all her childish innocence and wisdom. "Yes, yes you did" Frodo whispered, his voice hoarse and broken from pain and emotion. He closed his eyes a moment and stroked her hair as she snuggled into his embrace "the shadow is held at bay again" he whispered to himself.

Kylos came back from fetching their breakfast to find a wide awake Rosetta chattering away with a barely awake hobbit. He felt as if his heart would burst from joy and for a moment where they were, the cruelty of the men and foul confines of the cave did not matter...for they were together. He watched, eyes full, the easy way in which his sister gave of her affections, the gentle manner Frodo had as he showed his caring, and he realized that he too loved this hobbit. The sudden realization of this emotion scared Kylos for he knew that to open himself to love was to invite the risk of pain and loss. He stared at the ragged and pain wracked body of the halfling, he knew deep within himself that Frodo's future was bleak and he did not know how he would endure the pain of more losses in his life.

Frodo, who'd been lying with eyes closed as Rosetta chattered, opened his eyes to find Kylos looking to him with barely veiled feelings of love and sympathy upon his young features. He smiled at the boy, his blue eyes trying in vain to make Kylos feel welcomed and reassured by their glance. "Kylos" he whispered as the boy knelt beside him "thank you for all you've done" Frodo licked his dry lips and coughed. Kylos hastily brought a dipper of water from a nearby pail and gently, with Rosetta's help, pulled the hobbit to a seated position. Frodo drank deeply from the water and smiled his thanks as he continued "I know what you did was to save me' he said as he looked towards his newly bandaged foot "...and I know it was hard for you to do...I, I am only sorry that you had to witness it". Kylos allowed his eyes to fill one last time with the water of his unshed tears, then he assumed once more the hard expression of responsibility "Ye'll be just fine Mr. Frodo...Galen has taught me ta change the dressin's....and Dalmer's allowin' me and Rosetta ta stay with ya instead of workin' the mines with the others."

The children about them, with the harshly barked commands of the guards to guide them, began to form the lines they would travel in to begin their day's labor in the nearby mine. Frodo watched them anxiously, some of them looked frightened, some lost and some defiant...but all were showing signs of wear. The labor of the mines was hard and all looked tired, underfed and filthy. As they were forced from the cavern Frodo sought to question Kylos about the events of the past days. "Where do they take the children?" he asked of Kylos. The boy turned to Frodo, a bowl of gruel and spoon in his hands "they go ta the mine...tis back a ways from here and not all the guards seem ta know of it." Kylos offered the bowl to Frodo, who looked at the grey lumpy contents and shook his head " no Kylos, you and Rosetta split this....I've not had the labor you've had...you'll need the food more than I". Kylos nodded and he and Rosetta ravenously ate the contents of the bowl. Frodo felt the pain of his leg awakening and he grimaced as he tried to shift his position upon the pallet. Kylos noted the look of discomfort , got up and walking to a nearby table gathered the herbs the cook had given him and set them to steeping in a cup of hot water. In a moment he brought the cup back and offered Frodo the foul smelling concoction. 

Frodo took the cup and wrinkled his nose in disgust "what is this foul brew?" he asked. Kylos smiled " 'tis and infusion given ta me by Tolemen, the oldman cook...he's a herbalist that Dalmer keeps ta cook and treat them that get injured." Frodo gingerly took the cup and drank as much of it as he could, not caring what the cup contained so long as it might somehow dull his pain. After a few moments he felt a soothing sort of haze settle about him and he knew the drink had contained a sedative. He wanted to find out more of the mines activities so he fought against the sleep that wanted once more to claim him. "What do the children use to mine?" he asked as Kylos was checking the dressings upon his foot "we dig and use pick axes ta break the rock...but I heard Dalmer saying how he's gonna need ta blow some 'o the wall soon ta get to the gold." Frodo winced as Kylos carefully put his foot back down on the folded blanket upon which it rested. "Have they explosives?" he asked. Kylos shook his head, "Dalmer said somethin' about needed some supplies from the procurement officers, though he didn't know who he'd 'ave ta put together what he needed." Frodo nodded as he began to lose his battle to stay awake and his last thoughts were of fireworks....'odd to think of Gandalf's fireworks now' he thought as his mind was filled with images of exploding canisters turning to brightly colored trees and angry red dragons. 


	19. Chapter 19: Reconciling

Faces of War

Chapter 19: Reconciling

Disclaimer...these Characters are the creation of a master writer...I am only "spreading my literary wings" and having fun....for true writing talent....read books by JRR Tolkien

ClaudiaofBree...Can't believe my spell check doesn't have Elvish names in it....there must be program for that somewhere! Thanks for the heads up on spelling...I went back and tried to clean some of that up! I really am enjoying the AU aspect of writing...contrasting Frodo with the children of men has been very interesting...this chapter has more reflective thoughts from Frodo on this matter! Yes, Aragorn is very torn about where his duties lie ( I made some quick adjustments to ch. 18 to show that)...but he fears for the passion and impulsiveness of the hobbits!

LilyBaggins...Thanks for your compliments....I never thought I would "enjoy" conjuring up images of pain and sffering...but writing descriptively is writing to paint a picture....no matter the image eh? Frodo is beginning to see how much trouble he is in...and finding out what his priorities are.....sadly...he does not consider himself a priority.....there will be more angst and foresadowing of a great evil coming his way! Enjoy the chapter....

endymion2...The elves do not play a big role in this story...Legolas is there as a reminder of "fellowship"...and as a backdrop for Gimli's stark demeanor....this is a story of men and hobbits.....I added a little bit to chapter 18 about why Aragorn is not joining the rescue party...yet...he is quite torn between proving himself as King and providing care to those who brought him his "Kingship"!Rosetta is the embodiment fo innocence and childish wonder...a soul made to carry dreams and wonder wherever she goes....a bit "stuck" in her love of stories and "fantasies"...even as her "Sir Frodo" was as a child!

Warning..This chapter will show the depth of Frodo's insecurities and what some will do to satisfy their need to dominate....

This chapter makes some reference to the predatory violence and lust of Anborn...the ruffian who is Dalmer's brother...and who is being "foreshadowed" in this chapter for his entry into the story in chapter 20. Things get pretty rough for dear Frodo...please if you are objecting to this sort of "activity"...all I hope tastefully referenced...move on to chapter 21...or skip the portions of the chapter delineated with ******* across the text ( marking beginning and end of portions you may find 'uncomfortable'...the rest of the story will flow even if you do not read these marked portions)

Frodo spent his first days of consciousness observing the routines the children had fallen into. He himself was too weak to enter the mines and knew he'd have to find a way to show to Dalmer the wisdom of keeping him with the children, he feared for their safety and knew he'd be little help if he were not allowed to stay with them. He set about devising a plan to encourage his captors to keep them all together. He watched the children head to their tasks each day, saw the fear and hopelessness that colored their faces and his plan was set in motion. Frodo was able to convince Dalmer that the children listened to the halfling, and that in exchange for better treatment, he would encourage the children to be more productive in their mining tasks. Frodo grimaced to himself as he watched Toleman, the old cook, come to give Kylos and Rosetta their chores for the day, for while they were absolved of mine work for now, there was still work to be done. He hoped that whatever the day's chore might be, it would lead to more food for the children. Dalmer's notion of 'better treatment' had amounted to one extra piece of bread each day, and while it was not much it was one more hope the children held to.

He watched from his pallet and reflected upon the last few days. The children were finding hope, hope in the plans he was making for their escape, hope in the nights of softly spoken tales and hushed elven tunes he sang to soothe their fears. He watched as Kylos set about peeling a vast quantity of potatoes while Rosetta was given the task of grinding wheat in a small hand mill. Frodo waited patiently for the cook to bring him his chore and smiled at the thought of what Sam would think to see him, the master of Bag End, setting up to help with food preparation. As he awaited Toleman's task Frodo watched warily as the large burley form of Galen shadowed his resting place. Frodo shrank back a bit, the memory of the pain Galen'd inflicted, necessary though it had been deemed, was still fresh in his mind.

"Now jest ye lie still halfling, I'll not hurt ye if I can help it" the guards gruff voice said softly. Frodo groaned as Galen knelt down and began to unwrap the dressings from his foot. He winced, his foot throbbed as the gradual release of the dressings allowed his leg to show it's swelling. As gentle as the large guard tried to be, any jostling of the foot brought pain and Frodo felt tears come to his eyes as he fought to keep still. Galen looked at the foot appraisingly "hurts ye some I see...I am tryin' ta be kind ta ya little one, but it does need tendin' " 

Frodo nodded wordlessly, he sensed that this burley man would help them, and that his fear and mistrust had best be saved for those more likely to enact Dalmer's foul commands. As Galen finished unwrapping the foot and began to wash it once more in the herbs given him by Toleman, he pursed his lips in worry. Frodo watched Galen face and saw the concern in his dark eyes. He tried to sit up to see that which worried the man but Galen pressed his hands gently to the halflings shoulders to keep him down "rest easy there little one, 'twill do ya no good ta be 

fussin' " he said quietly. Galen rocked back on his heels and contemplated the options before him, the halflings foot was becoming infected, he saw the beginning of pale red streaks upon the foot and noted the dry heat radiating from the leg. 

With a deeply indrawn breath Frodo said with quiet resignation "I am aware that it is becoming infected" he looked to where Kylos and Rosetta were toiling at their task, not wanting to be heard and then continued ..."and while I thank you for all you've done..." he paused once more to choose the right words as Galen stared first at his leg and then to Frodo's clear blue eyes.

The hobbit licked his dry lips and began again "I know that once blood poisoning sets in, well I know that healing is not likely". Galen tried to protest but Frodo stopped him with an angry shake of his dark curls " Do not pretend with me, I am full grown in my land, though as a child I may appear in size to you...I know of what I speak. " He coughed weakly from his verbal exertion and continued "I see that you have a good heart Galen, that you will seek to repair the damages your pain and anger have forced you to. I will need your help to save the children, no matter my state" he said quietly as he inclined his head in the direction of his wounded foot. He reached to grab the big man's arm and held him fast as he whispered " they must be saved." 

The shaken hobbit closed his eyes to rest but a moment and Galen took in the refined beauty and grace of his slender features, the quiet acceptance of pain and the brave hope for the children offered through the halflings words and he felt weary. His heart ached for the quietly brave hobbit before him and he resolved to do all in his power to right his own destructive path. Frodo opened his eyes once more, their wide blue expanses bored into Galen heart. "You will help us"

Frodo said, certainty in his voice and relief in his mind.

The steady clop clop of pony hooves and creak of wooden wheels was the sound that echoed through the sparse landscape. The two carts, marking their way with a trail of dust, made their way from the river garrison. The stern faced dwarf raised the water skin to his lips and silently handed it to his companion. Sam took the water with a nod of thanks and then went back to his perusal of the land about him. The day was growing old and the hobbit did not know if it was the lateness of the hour or the burden of his mind, but he'd not felt this weary since Mordor. 

Gimli looked to the long face of his cart mate "Mr. Baggins has a strength in him Master Gamgee that is not easily put aside....he'll not give in ta the evil of these men with ease." Sam nodded and sighed "aye, stubborn as the day 'tis long....a regular Baggins trait that, but 'tis just that side 'o his nature that I fear for....he'll not give in a whit and they'll jest hurt him more fer his defiance Gimli." The swarthy dwarf grunted his agreement and the silence of the ride continued. Sam was frustrated by their lack of progress. They'd been to one quarry and the river garrison seeking news, but none was to be had. Their inquiries and questions had raised eyebrows, but no answers had as yet been found.

Sam looked over the dusty plains before him, the vista was sweeping in it's scale. Low lying scrub brush punctuated with dry grasses and the white mountains overshadowing all to their west. The quiet hobbit did not see the views before him, but the abandoned settlements, burned out farms and the carrion of dead livestock that had filled his vision over the past few days. The agony of war had hit the people of Gondor with swift and malicious efficiency. Sam saw in his mind the the vacant stares and hopeless demeanor of the people he'd met on his travels through the region. Soldiers, farmers, craftsmen, women and men alike all bore the deep scars of fear and mistrust that Sauron's legacy of evil had left to them. His heart was forever tied to the love of his friend and master, but his plain hobbit sensibilities were stricken by the horror of Sauron's onslaught. He sighed, saddened by the destruction he'd witnessed and by the despair and anger that went unspoken amongst the peoples of Gondor.

As the day's heat began to fade and the dusty trail of the carts wake gave way to the silent swish of grasses underneath, they had put 10 leagues behind them and were choosing a spot to make camp. Sam, as he had done on journeys past, assumed the role of cook and soon had a camp meal of fried cornmeal, sausage with cabbage, and baked apples warm from the embers of the fire, ready to be eaten. They ate for sustenance with few comments or pleasantries at first. Soon however, Pippin could not resist the urge to compare this meal to one they'd enjoyed as the fellowship had first left Rivendell less than a year ago. Pippin tried to bring his special levity and lightness to the memory and soon had all around the fire laughing with his recounting as he told of Legolas and how taken he'd been with Sam's baked apples when first he tasted them. 

"So fond was the Prince of Mirkwood with yer cooking of these apples Sam that when Gandalf sought ta find a light for his pipe, the elf tried ta snitch Gandalf's apple" Pippin said, eyes twinkling in merriment. "Yes...I do recall that our friend the wizard threatened to curl the Prince's hair and turn him into the tallest hobbit ever seen." Merry added. Gimli laughed, his hearty deep sounds of mirth as he remembered that night. Sam smiled at the memory as well and caught up in the spirt of the moment added "and do ye recall that Mr. Frodo said that if Gandalf would turn the Prince's hair black in the process he'd accept him as a Baggins....since they were already considered an odd lot". Sam's smile faded as the joy filled memory turned to fear and he found himself up and walking away from the fire as the joy and pain of that memory became too much to bear. As he walked away from the fire he shook his head and clenched his fists in anger, those moments had belonged to a world where their every waking moment was born of uncertainty and the nature of the quest had given them license to form friendships that crossed all boundaries. A world where fear stalked them even as hope guided them forward and the righteousness of their mission lent them strength. He looked up to the clear beauty of the distant stars and he recalled Frodo's tales of the Iluvatar, the beauty of the Silmarils and the everlasting spirit of Elbereth. He found himself wondering if he'd ever again have the hope and strength that he'd found in the quiet commitment and certainty of goodness, that even in a world poised on the edge of madness his friend had stalwartly upheld. "Wherever you are Mr. Frodo, I hope you find strength from the light of our Lady's star" he whispered "her light is a gift master...another light ta fill yes dark times" he whispered and he lay down by the ponies where he'd placed his bedroll and watched the twinkling stars bid him good night through the whispy clouds.

Frodo found he couldn't sleep, though his body craved it, his mind could not accept it, and so he watched the children. He'd sent them, the youngest among them cuddled at his feet, the elder children standing in quiet nonchalance in the background, to sleep with his telling of the story of Turin and Nienor, their bravery and tragic love in the face of obstacles beyond the thoughts of mortals had always inspired Frodo. He had ensured that the deeds of brave Turin as he searched for his lost love and the loyalty of Nienor were amplified in his telling of the tale. He needed the children to have the belief that against all odds, love can prevail. He watched the children in their various postures of sleep, some stone still, some fluidly moving as they gently sought positions of comfort and others thrashing as their sleep fought them. He felt a little guilty that he'd not told the full tale of Neinor and Turin, the tragedy and loss of truth that beset them in their quest to aide those they loved. He could not be blamed for wanting the children to see only the heros of a story, after all...he could not yet tell them even of his own part in the tale in which they had fallen. 

He turned to stroke Rosetta's cheek, she'd once more cuddled up beside him and had entangled herself within the confines of his blankets in such a way as to make rest for him impossible. 'Worse that that imp of a Took I dare say' he thought as he smiled at the memory of nights spent fighting his dear cousin for the sanctuary of even one blanket as they shared beds in Brandy hall or the great Smials of Tookland. He gently smoothed the curls that fell from her filthy kerchief, he longed to see what she would look like in the fair clothing of the palace...fine silks and soft brocades to wrap her gentle spirit in. He sighed, his thoughts wandered and he wondered if he'd see Galen tonight. He'd noticed the pain of his foot becoming more difficult to ignore and hoped that the burley guard had pulled a night time duty so that he might have some of the pain easing herbs that Toleman so ably provided, and so subtly gave to his friend Galen.

He leaned his head back against the cool smoothness of the cavern's wall, he could feel weakness creeping into his body, moments of strength and will were slowly becoming overlaid with the ever present tiredness that sought to overwhelm him. He knew that the slowly growing fever within his body was gradually robbing him of his daytime energy and his nighttimes's restoring slumber. He sighed as he once more ran a slender finger down the dust covered cheek of his princess. He contemplated her gentle nature and sweetly blossoming beauty 'she'll be a handsome lass as she grows' he found himself thinking. ' I wish I could see her innocence become the radiance of womanhood as she grows to maturity' he found himself thinking. 

Frodo set his lips a thin line and slowly rocked his head from side to side, he'd thought himself prepared to die, had craved the peace and endless sleep of death and had resented his awakening at Cormallen. He had then been angry at a world that couldn't, wouldn't let him go. At least that was how he had felt a lifetime ago. Now, looking about the room, he realized that the treasures he'd fought for were not embodied in lands or building or in the sovereignty of territories..but in lives, in the future of the all the children of Middle Earth. He hung his head

' save the Shire indeed Frodo Baggins, tis not the Shire...but the hope of free and innocent people everywhere that needed saving.' He bit his lip as his thoughts began to unravel once more and he fought to maintain the thread of his purpose.

His dark thoughts rose up to consume him, 'so many unfulfilled dreams' he thought 'such pain and unrelenting despair abounds...this is my legacy' he thought. A tear fell silently 'I have brought this pain to the people's of Gondor...if I had been but a few days faster, Gondor would have been spared.' His thumb made careful circles upon the dust covered cheek of his Princess , his head was beginning to ache and his ever present thirst was signaling the the slow rise of his fever. He looked curiously to his foot and could see that the infection had spread. The skin was hot and swelling, it ached just to move it. Moving was a necessity however and so Galen had fashioned for Frodo a crutch and the hobbit used it when necessary. 

Frodo found the incessant wandering of his thoughts disarming. He'd always prided himself on his rational and well organized thoughts. In his life before he was "the Ringbearer" his life had often revolved around the simple satisfaction of reading and translating books, observing maps and learning the elvish language to his cousin's satisfaction. His mind switched gears again, and he wandered to the present. 

Just today they'd given Rosetta the job of crawling to the tight crevices of the mining areas, where she was to place the explosives and run the fuses, so when the time was right they'd blow sections of the cave to find more gold. He furrowed his brow in worry, the thought of the little one beside him handling explosives was frightening to him, especially the first few he'd seen her called upon to place. He'd offered his services to Dalmer then, not wanting to see his Princess losing limbs or life, he offered to make the explosives. 'Gandalf' he thought tiredly ' you'll never know what those scamps learned from watching you my friend.'. He was grateful that Merry and Pippin had been so inquisitive and nosey, for through their antics he'd learned what was required to construct exploding devices. His mind drifted through pictures of his past, Bilbo's party, the pranks of his cousins, the smile of his dear Sam. 

The night wore on and still Frodo could neither sleep, nor organize his thoughts. He worried that the wanderings of his thoughts were a reflection of his growing fever, or perhaps from his lack of proper eating these past days. His fingers brushed a stray hair from Rosetta's face and she mumbled something in her sleep as she twitched her tiny nose. He smiled at her, she was all that was important to him now, seeing that she and the other children made it to safety. His stomach gave a sudden rumble. He'd long ago given up any real interest in food and had been giving the majority of his rations to the children, eating the barest amount to sustain him. He shifted his position and noticed the increased throbbing of his leg, he shifted yet again to bring relief, but his movements did nothing to quell the ache. 'I am so tired ' he thought 'so weary of pain and darkness'. He was beginning to realize that his chances of escape grew less with each day the blood poisoning took hold.

'I must hold on to see them through this' he thought as he looked about the cavern to the sleeping children '...then I shall have my rest'. He didn't regret the thought of leaving, his life after Mordor had been empty, dark, a void with no light or comfort to guide him. What he found unbearable were the thoughts he held of those he'd leave behind. He tried to console himself, to ease his guilt and sadness by imagining the lives his loved ones would lead in his absence. 

'Sam, my dear Sam...you shall join yourself forever to the finest lass in the Shire....and through you the future will take hold as you teach others of what we almost lost.' His thoughts continued and images of Merry and Pippin arose, his cousins and beloved playmates of an otherwise dark childhood. 'They have each other, and their future's to look to.' A twinge of pain caused him to grimace and he fought to keep his thoughts trained on those he'd miss most. 'Strider, my brave and noble friend...you shall have the love of the Evenstar and the joy of seeing the rebirth of your fair city'. 

Through his mind flashed images of moments past, time spent with the other valiant members of the Fellowship. The honor and grace of Legolas, the steely determination of Gimli, the strength and torment of Boromir. He pulled his hand from Rosetta's curls and clenched his fists as his body recalled the pain of that day so long ago. 'Oh Boromir, too late did I see the madness my burden caused you.' He stared to the vast depths of the cave, seeing not rock and sharply angled walls, but a sun filled day on Amon Hen.

He closed his eyes, he could see the shadows the dancing sunlight made through the gently waving leaves, smell the musty odor of leaves and rich earth, feel his fear as the large man before him encroached upon his space. 'Oh Boromir' he thought 'you too felt it's evil draw...why did I not see it sooner?'. He shuddered with the memory of that afternoon as his pain and guilt for lives he'd been too weak to save threatened to overwhelm him he stifled a sob and buried his face in his hands. 'Too weak' he thought 'I was too weak and but for me Boromir is gone'. He took a deep breath to control his racing emotions, his random thoughts and images a maelstorm of colors in his mind. 

His fevering mind took him once more to the past and he was transported to an afternoon of bright sunshine and promise, that turned to dread in the woods of Ithilien. The cool dampness of another cave, another time filled his memory and image upon image came to him. A forced march with hands bound and eyes shielded, staggering on the uneven terrain of the forest, the relief of having the blindfold removed. He recalled how with the removal of the cloth upon his eyes, he'd first turned to Sam, a quick visual check put him more at ease and he breathed deeply his relief. Sam had not known it, but the man chosen to 'guide' Frodo through the woods had taken every opportunity to assist Frodo in his stumbling, then used his solicitous concern to carefully grope and 'check' his body. By the time they'd reached the caves Frodo had felt shame as well as fear. One look from Sam, his 'it will be fine Mr. Frodo, your Sam's here face' had calmed him. He smiled as he recalled how Sam's facial expression had had the power to bring him from panic, ease his fears and calm his frayed nerves.

Images from the cave continued to whirl through his mind, the beauty of the waterfall cascading behind them, the depth of the spacious cave, Henneth Annun, camp of the Gondorian soldiers soon became another site of fear.. That afternoon, after being briefly questioned by Captain Faramir, they'd been sent to rest and regroup in a space to the back of the cave. While they were held as prisoners, Frodo had then felt no fear, for he'd sensed that Faramir was a man of honor. He sighed as he recalled how very tired and ill he'd felt after their long forced march. They'd looked to one another, each offering what comfort their eyes could tell to the other when his guide from the day's march returned and forced Frodo to his feet. He'd been a little uneasy, but to keep Sam from further worry he'd remained calm as he was forced from the back of the cave and brought down a narrow corridor and to another dank room. As they entered the room, his guide had shoved him roughly to the floor and had begun firing questions at such a pace that Frodo's weary mind could not keep pace. 

The tall and angry man had lost patience and had slapped him when Frodo's answers came too slowly or not at all. "Please, allow me to answer at a pace I can accommodate" he'd pleaded as he'd tried to avert his gaze from the frightening vision of the man before him. His efforts earned him another slap and the man had growled "look ta me when I speak to you spy". He'd wiped the blood from his lip and said softly "please sir, let me answer your questions as I may". The man had only narrowed his eyes and muttered some foul curse about 'spies' and had kicked him till Frodo'd felt muscles, already worn, tear from the impact and he'd gasped in pain. That brought the man to a stop and he'd felt himself roughly pulled upward and his captor shoved him roughly to a wall, his face inches from Frodo's wide blue eyes "please, allow me to answer your questions as I may' he'd pleaded then, wishing to spare his worn body more pain.

The angry man had filled his hand with Frodo's sweaty curls and pulled his head back till Frodo'd had no place to look but into the depths of dark grey eyes filled with hatred and something else, a feeling of panic set in as he'd recognized the look in the man's eyes. It was lust, a pure and overpowering desire from one of strength to dominate, overpower and claim another for his own twisted purpose, he'd seen that look only once before. He'd shuddered as he realized that the nightmares of his childhood and the unwanted attentions of another might soon again be his. He'd fought the memory of his childhood even as he'd attempted to twist from the guards's grasp. He'd found he could control neither.

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Panic he'd also felt that day, long ago, whilst in the company of his Uncle Saradoc he'd made a trip to a merchant fair in Bree. A young tween, he'd been in awe of the sights about him and he'd had difficulty keeping up with his Uncle as his head spun from one novelty to the next. He'd stopped at a book vender as the voice of his Uncle and a local merchant faded in the distance. Turning to find his Uncle he'd been surprised to find his way blocked by two men. He had politely tried to excuse himself and follow the retreating sound of his Uncles' discourse when the man had grabbed his arm "what's yer hurry pretty boy?" the man had asked grabbing Frodo's wrist with one hand and caressing his cheek with the other. He'd not then understood the mans intent, but had felt a sick feeling in his stomach and a sense of shame slowly creeping over him. He'd blushed and the man's eyes had lit up as he'd taken his large hand and rubbed the hobbit's neck with "Yer a beaut, what 'll cost fer my friend and I ta taste yer charms?" The man had said, voice thick with emotions. Frodo'd been so stunned he'd been unable to answer and the man got angry "Playin' hard ta get? I'll show ya hard" he'd sneered and the hobbit tween had felt himself grabbed and thrust to a nearby ally.

Frodo'd realized than that he needed to fight, he didn't clearly understand what the men had wanted from him, but knew in his young heart that it was wrong. He opened his mouth to scream and felt his lips covered with the man's hand. They backed him to the wall and as Frodo'd tried to scream his rage and fear once more, the man had slapped him and then kissed him. He'd been kissed before, by maiden aunts, by elderly matrons and one or two shy lasses, tentative, nurturing and kind kisses that had made him feel loved and wanted. This kiss brought him to the edge of his shame and he felt defiled. As the man's hands began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt he'd felt himself falling into a black emptiness. 

The next thing he was aware of was his Uncle, concern and suspicion etched upon his face. Frodo'd try to reassure Uncle Saradoc that he was fine, while inside he felt himself screaming in pain and fear. Saradoc, not fully reassured by the claims of his charge nodded briefly and turned to the merchant at his side. Frodo'd heard the words "just a misunderstanding Brandybuck...they took him for a brothel boy. Ye'd best be careful with 'im here in town, he's a beauty and next time ya won't be so lucky". His Uncle had taken him back to the local inn and spent the next days studiously avoiding Frodo's eyes and questions. 

He recalled the pain of those days, and upon return to Brandy hall the questioning glances of his older relations, silence when he'd walk into a room, giggles from the girls and the taunting of his male cousins. He'd grown to hate all about him that was different, after all these many years their unspoken fears and accusations still hurt. He'd soon learned that he was odd, different and an embarrassment to all...all except his Uncle Bilbo. 

His mind shifted once more and he was back in Henneth Annun. The guard had flung him down upon a table, wrenched his shirt from his back and tied his hands to the legs of the table. As he felt the stinging of a taut leather strand upon his back, he'd wanted to cry out, but knew he'd have to spare his Sam torments he could nothing to change, so he'd bitten his lip to quiet his cries. After another blow or two he'd felt blood flow in a trickle down his back and had heard the cadence of heavy breathing in his ears. Hands, large and rough hands sought to remove clothing even as they caressed his body and he'd closed his eyes and prayed for this torment to be over quickly when from the corner of his fear shadowed mind he'd heard "Anborn, remove yourself from here at once". He'd fainted then and never spoke to any of his shameful treatment at the hands of the guard named Anborn. 

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It was nearly morning now, he could tell from the sounds of increased activity within the cave, for no sunshine could penetrate the walls of this prison. He was slowly coming back to the realities of the present, Rosetta's warm breath upon his hand, the musty smell of the old blankets upon which they lay, the throb of pain from his swollen leg and foot. Yes, it was nearly daytime once more. He swallowed his memories, his agonies of the past and made ready to meet the needs of the present as the children about him began to stir. 


	20. Chapter 20: Resignation

Faces of War

Chapter 20: Resignation 

Discalimer: The Characters from this story are the creation of a literary genius....I am just allowing my burgeoning writing skills to bask in the glow of his glory...thank you J.R.R Tolkein

Warning....this chapter is rated R....I'm afraid that Frodo is in a spot of trouble here....I tried to portray his agony, his shame, his fears and his dwindling spirit as tastefully as I could. However, there are references to "violence" of a sort that some may not find to their liking....I have marked the portions of the chapter dealing with such intimate angst with a line of ****** at the beginning and the end of the text that is most difficult to partake of. This was a difficult section to write and I muddled through it several different ways, finally arriving at this. I hope I have shown the pure unadulterated evil of Anborn as he seeks to bring the pain he feel Frodo deserves to rest upon the frail shoulder of the ringbearer. Anborn is not yet done with Frodo however, there is more evil...of a less "intimate" nature in later chapters! Thanks to all who have stuck with this....I believe there will be another 15-20 chapters to bring the story to it's happy...depending on who you are...sort of ending. Please review if you are so inclined...it does help me as I re-write and form the "final" copy of my stories. 

Iorhael....Much of Frodo's life seems to made up of memories of pain....do you think that such memories only serve to remind us, in a more stark contrast, the light that joy brings us? I do...as you can probably see from my stories! I really enjoyed your latest story of Shelob's lair....very interesting premise! You should continue with this....How is "Taken" coming along?

ClaudiaofBree.....the flashbacks will "link" this story to a third...if you can believe it...story that sets Frodo in his early years and the pain he suffered in having no home, no place to belong....this will be a big "hobbity" challenge for me and I will need to keep on my descriptive toes to ensure that I do not butcher the nature of the Shire...and the nature of hobbits too badly! In the planning stages now...look for it in the Spring... Anborn shows his true colors...or at least the beginning of them...here in this chapter!

Endymion2....Saradoc is pompous, self serving and suspicious of Frodo from the very beginning...you'll like him even less in my next story! Amazing that Merry could come from such a hobbit ( or perhaps _not_ if you've read "Ring around the Merry"). The blood poisoning becomes a problem as Frodo's torments continue....fever, weakness etc....but you know that strength of will and "hobbit sturdiness" will win out in the end! Yes, Aragorn is quite torn by his duties, his love, his loyalties....not easy being King....but then again he said he never "wanted" to be King in the first place!

Shire Baggins....I will not kill Frodo....I can barely stand to read the section in the book when he goes to the Grey Havens...no I could not kill such a reminder of gentle kindness, loyal friendship and compassionate righteousness....no, where would we be without a Frodo and a Sam in our lives? The Valar have made some special plans for Frodo...and yes Chrys will come back into this story in dream flashbacks in the next five or so chapters...don't forget about her...she'll be baaaack! 

The King looked critically to the specter before him. The last of the three ships was now ready. He frowned as he looked at the three ships clustered together at the few berths of Osgiliath that were able to take the burden of a ship in their varying states of ruin. He found himself wishing with a little voice inside his head, that these ships would find the grace of the Valar and sink before the kidnappers got hold of them. He shook his head, he knew in his heart that such a wish was unwise and would serve no purpose. He walked aboard each ship and examined their contents, then when at last upon the final ship, he turned and looked south. He remembered the day he'd brought these ships to port, Army of the Dead at his call, he'd brought these ships to the salvation of his people. He only hoped that once more these ships would serve the purpose of saving those he held dear.

He raised a hand to rub his weary temple and a voice at his side caught his attention. He turned to face the speaker "my King, the ships are ready and await only your final command to set sail." Aragorn nodded grimly, "a fine job of requisitioning Faramir, I thank you my friend" he said as he clapped the Steward's son upon his shoulder. " I only wish I could have provided more service to my King" Faramir said quietly as he noticed the sad cast to Aragorns features.

"Time will tell what service these ships will render us Faramir" Aragorn said as the two of them disembarked the ship. Faramir nodded thoughtfully "what news is there of Gimli and the Hobbits?" he asked as they mounted their horses and made their way back to the City. 

Aragorn smiled wryly "Gimli reports that the Hobbit's have found more found than any save hobbits could consume and that he is plagued by the whining sounds of Elves singing while they trail him in his travels." Faramir laughed, Gimli's affections for the Elf Legolas was well known,

as was his manner of taunting his friend at every turn. "However" the King continued quietly

" they reached the last quarry three days past and saw nothing to arouse suspicion." Faramir frowned "then the ships shall be sent on the morrow?" Aragorn took a deep breath to steady his frayed nerves " yes Faramir, the ships will set sail in the morning. Each will be sent with a company of soldiers to sail them to their destinations, and then to set watch upon all who try to board" the King replied. They rode in silence through the fields of ruin surrounding the city and to the lower gates, each lost in their own thoughts of the destruction around them.

The King signaled to 'halt' as they reached the refugee camp closest to the river. He noted with satisfaction the the changes that just a few weeks had wrought. Where once children had lived in squalor and chaos, now he saw rows of orderly tents. Children who'd once begged and stole their food, now earned it by helping to serve others in the camps. He looked about, pleased that at least some good had come from the events of the past weeks. He gestured to the Captain of his guard and sent him to seek some residents of the camp. 'Yes' he thought 'at long last some peace and calm is being restored to these people most hurt by the folly of war'. As he looked about him he felt shamed that it had taken the words and deeds of one frail Hobbit to call the attention of the King to those who needed him most. He hung his head and hoped that his actions, both here in the camps, and on Frodo's behalf were not too little, too late. 

After a few painful moments of reflection he looked up to see two familiar faces approach him through the gathering crowd. They approached and bowed reverently to their King. Aragorn smiled warmly and dismounted "Rumeil and Terren, now I'll have none of that my friends....why this is truly miraculous...you have worked magic here Terren, thank you ". Terren looked up to his King and smiled "Thank you sire for letting me 'elp the people of the camps...they are in your debt." The elderly healer said quietly as he wrapped an arm about Rumeil's frail shoulders. "As are we Sire" he continued with a smile. 

Aragorn flashed a brief smile in return, but the fleeting peasantry never reached his eyes and he grew suddenly serious. "I am only sorry I did not know of your plight sooner Terren....for perhaps..." he furrowed his brow and frowned "perhaps I might have prevented the cruelty that has been visited upon your loved ones." Terren could only nod briefly and stare at the saddened countenance of his King. Rumeil, seeing the depth of his King's despair boldly walked forward and took Aragorns hand in his own small weak grasp "out loved ones my King" he whispered, eyes swimming in unshed tears. Aragorn took both of Rumeil's hands in his and stared to the lad's big brown eyes "yes Rumeil, our loved ones...ones who have been away from home too long....will you accompany your King as we seek to bring them to safety once more?" Rumeil looked hopefully to to Terren, knowing that with his fragile health, the healer would allow him to do only that which would not damage his health further. Terren hesitated, Rumeil was so frail and still coughed often from the lung sickness, but seeing the hope shining in the boy's eyes said "yes my King, Rumeil may come...on one condition Sire...." Aragorn smiled "yes, but of course he will have need of your company as well...." the King paused and looked to the hills beyond the river "I fear we will have need of a healer soon Terren, we may need the hands of several healers on this journey friend."

Gimli finished watering the pony and turned to make his way silently back to the campfire. He saw the hobbits huddled about the fire, quietly conversing. He was irritable, it was hot, all about him was dirt and inhospitable brush and worst of all he suspected that the hobbits were up to something. He moved as unobtrusively as possible toward the fire, trying to overhear their hushed conversation. Sam looked up and motioned for the others to be quiet as he saw the approaching dwarf, he slowly filled his pipe. Gimli cursed Sam's excellent hearing and came out of the shadows to the light of the fire and the scrutiny of his companions.

The Hobbits were quiet as Gimli huffed and grumbled his way into their midst. The disgruntled dwarf looked from one bland Hobbit expression to the next, finally growling in exasperation "out with it now, ye've got a plan afoot or I'm an Elf". Pippin, wide eyed and innocent in his delivery " A might short for the fair folk....but perhaps the heat has shrunk him then?". Sam smiled and Merry laughed out loud, Gimli hrumpfed and glowered a moment before he he finally guffawed loudly and slapped Pippin on the back good naturedly "the fair folk'll never have such beauty in their midst master Hobbit". The stocky dwarf laughed a few moments with his traveling companions. 

As their laughter faded into the darkness of the velvety night about them, Sam said steadily, his voice rising and gaining strength with the certainty of his words "he's there Gimli...he's there and he's in pain...I have to go back." Gimli looked sadly at the long faced Hobbit lad beside him "now Master Gamgee, we have been back ta that quarry twice in the last three days, ye'll not go back again without arousing suspicion...and we've seen no sign of Child nor Hobbit on either visit." Sam shook his head vehemently " ye didn't _see_ a sign, but in me heart Gimli, me heart knows he's there...he's there and he's in pain" Sam looked beseechingly to the grumpy dwarf "I know my heart Gimli...he needs me. Let me go, let me go under cover of dark and search him out." Sam grabbed Gimli's sleeve, his voice and eyes desperate "ye have ta let me try. He's close ta darkness Gimli...I'm fearing he's givin' up. Please, help us ta help him?"

The grim faced dwarf looked from one anxious Hobbit face to another, he'd promised to watch out for the hobbits, but he knew their stubborn nature all to well. He sighed deeply and made a choice, he would help with what he knew, rather than hide from what he knew to be the truth. He pursed his lips, and nodded slowly "aye Master Hobbit, ye can count on Gimli son of Gloin ta aid ya in what he knows tis right."

Frodo had drifted off to sleep briefly, but found himself painfully awakened by the muffled sound of Rosetta's cry and a sharp violent kick to his ribs. His eyes flew open in surprise at the pain and he heard Rosetta cry "no, don't you go hurtin' my Sir Frodo". Out of the corner of his eye, eyes clenched shut in pain from this newest agony, he watched as Rosetta spun in the arms of the man who held her and bit down with all her might upon his hand. The surly man holding her yelped in surprise and shoved her roughly across the room to land in a shaking heap upon the floor. Frodo shook off his pain and fatigue and struggled to sit up, wrapping his arm protectively about the ribs where he'd just been kicked "she's but a child" he said, steely voice full of anger and disdain "if it's pain you must inflict, let me be your target." His blue eyes were wide and blazed in anger as he issued his challenge, his emotions gave him strength and he felt a warmth and determination fill him.. Several men, clustered towards the doorway, stood still and stared awkwardly at the visage of strength coming from one so small, not knowing how to answer such a challenge. 

A sudden snort of laughter could be heard and as Frodo looked to the group of men, he watched as the men moved aside and a lone figure strode into view. He squinted, unable at first to make out the features of the man coming towards him...tall, lean and cruel, the man's hard grey eyes and lankly brown hair brought a fearful memory to Frodo's heart and he felt his breath quicken. His anger, an emotion that had cast a warmth upon him seconds ago, deserted him and he trembled as his memories stripped him of his fury. The voice came closer "Cap't Faramir can't save ya now halfling...we meet again, jest as I'd promised...and I've got matters ta settle with ya.". The grim faced man, thin lips sneering over yellowed teeth knelt before Frodo and locked his hard gaze upon the shaken Hobbit. Frodo shrunk back as far as he could, but the man grabbed him roughly by the neck and pulled him forward until his face was a mere inches away and the foul smell of unwashed body and rotted teeth nearly overwhelmed the Hobbit. Frodo fought the urge to retch and tried to look defiantly at his tormentor.

Anborn leered suggestively at the Hobbit before him and with his knife in his other hand ran it from Frodo's smooth cheek, to the opening of his shirt as he slowly cut first one, then two buttons from the shirt and ran the tip of the knife in sharp lightly piercing trails around his nipple. Frodo reached to his neck, trying to lesson the man's grip about his neck, but so entranced was Anborn by the sight of the hobbit's fear and the trail of blood upon his fair chest that he'd not realized how tightly he squeezed until Frodo'd finally been forced to break the stillness with a gasp. Anborn had smiled, a slow and knowing smile as he viewed the pain of the Hobbit. With a suddenness that left Frodo reeling, Anborn dropped the knife and tangled his hand in the Hobbit's curls, forcing his head back he pulled his face forward and as he squeezed the hobbit's neck with less force he whispered "something to remember me by". He kissed Frodo's trembling lips gently, allowing himself to savor the feel and taste of the revenge he'd sought for so long, while his hand let lose the hobbit's matted curls and traveled down the open length of the frail and blood speckled chest.

Frodo, sensing his chance, pulled Anborn's hand from his neck and pulled away "you disgust me you loathsome creature, remove your hand at once" he snapped, enraged that once more he was made to feel shame for the sport of another.. Anborn rocked back on his heels in surprise as his men snickered behind him. Anborn coldly fixed his stare upon the men clustered behind him and as one, they stopped snickering and waited for their orders. The man turned once more to Frodo "you have more spirit now than the last time we met halfling, no matter" he said as he abruptly backhanded Frodo's face and roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet "I shall break you" he promised "you shall see. I will enjoy getting reacquainted with your charms, oh yes I should like to get to know you _much better_ this time" he sneered. Anborn threw Frodo to several of his men and the Hobbit stumbled upon his knees, feeling stabbing pain as his foot was slammed to the floor of the cave. "Take him to Dalmer's rooms" Anborn ordered. Frodo stiffened and felt himself dragged from the children's cavern while he fought with every ounce of his waning strength. He flailed his arms and legs wildly, and was dimly aware of Rosetta's crying as Anborns men dragged the struggling Hobbit through the darkness of the caves.

* * *

The pain from Frodo's foot was incessant, a throbbing reminder of his fading hope and will, but it was nothing compared to the pain of his spirit. He knew struggling to be futile, cursed his frailties, but could not allow himself to be abused once more to satisfy the lust of another. He flailed wildly, arms and legs going mad in their attempts to break free while his captors only laughed as they commented upon his fairness, speculated about the taste of his lips and the sport he'd soon offer their leader. Frodo was once more trapped in evil dreams and could see only the dark shadows of his fears as he was once more in Cirith Ungol. He felt again the the spiraling terror of helpless shame as once more the sensation of violent hands upon him, roughened nails tearing and putrid teeth biting filled his senses as he was violated for the foul sport of Sauron's servants.

He shook himself free of that memory, fought to regain his present and redoubled his efforts to gain his freedom. He felt tears come to his eyes, he could not survive this, would will himself to die rather than endure the agony of another's degrading passion. His tears became a mark of hatred, he'd fought for a world of renewed hope, a world of peace and fairness, not this. His hatred for the world of men filled his soul and he felt a part of himself die, wither and retreat as his faith in the goodness of the world was shattered. He continued to fight, doing all his weakened body could to halt the progress of the men who dragged him to his shame.

He was tossed, with less regard than one would give a dead animal, to the wall of a dimly lit cave. He rolled protectively to a ball and did all he could to stay away from the hands that sought to hurt and imprison him. His efforts were to no avail for soon he was grabbed once more, hands bound to ropes that hung from a beam above his head, he was suspended, feet dangling in the air. 

He shook with fear, but willed himself to breath deeply, to steady himself, knowing that Anborn's lust would be fueled by his sounds of pain and despair. He searched his mind, looked for quiet and peace filled memories, a sanctuary in which to hid himself from the pain he knew would soon be his.

He dimly heard Anborns heavy breathing, smelled his foul breath and suffered long the intrusion of his kisses, all the while keeping his eyes closed. An evil laugh, the tearing sound of his shirt being torn from his body and the crack of leather were heard as searing pain signaled the true beginning of his torment. He bit his lip, willing himself to be still, demanding that his voice do what his heart could not, keep from crying out and telling the world of his agony. Crack after crack filled the air and Frodo felt the moistness of blood run in ticklish rivulets upon his back, and he could hold no more his agony as he groaned aloud. The sound of The hobbit's pain incited Anborn's feral lust and Frodo was soon aware of air upon his body where he'd previously felt covering, he endured roughly grasping hands and a tear ran down his face as the indignities began.

He had no world to save now, no quest to guide him, no friends to protect and as his body was violently assaulted by the angry and pain inspired lust of Anborn, he felt his very soul rip asunder, and he screamed. His cry was filled with the agony of loss, lost dreams, lost hopes, lost will to live. As his cry lost momentum and his body sought the relief of unconsciousness he whimpered and his eyes rolled back into his head. Anborns slaking desires were reignited and the agony began anew.

* * *

It was this primal cry of fear, senseless pain and ultimate despair that awakened another Hobbit

from his dreams several leagues away. Sam sat up, none of the others moved, but he had heard his master's cry for help. He felt the agony of his friend's shame and tears filled his eyes "hold on Mr. Frodo...your Sam is nearly there...don't give in to them...don't let go...hang on ta yer hope" he whispered . He sat up, clasped his hands about his knees and rocked himself back and forth, willing his soothing movements and words to reach the one he needed so to save, and he waited for the light of dawn.


	21. Chapter 21: Withdrawing

Faces of War

Chapter 21: Withdrawing

Warning: This chapter exemplifies the brutality of Anborn...pain "beyond reckoning" pulls at Frodo...I tried not to be too gruesome, too explicit....yet the horror of reason lost, of hatred beyond reason, were calls that needed to be answered. Our "baddie" Anborn is twisted, warped by the injustice he felt was done to him before....and no, we have not seen the last of him...it's just that "calmer" heads....ie Dalmer's had to prevail...or this would be a much shorter story! This is a short chapter...I mean, really, how much angst can one of 3'8" endure? There's no "impropriety" here...ie while Frodo is desired, he is not conquered in _that _fashion!

Disclaimer: I am no J.R.R. Tolkein....but I really enjoy the reality of his contrived characters!

ShireBaggins...That was a tough chapter, this one seems even tougher in some ways....but even when most subdued, when events around him seem most helpless....Frodo finds a "spark"...the tenacity that brought him through Mordor was not a fluke! Frodo finds his strength in that little place inside him that refuses to believe that evil is meant to happen, that the small goodnesses of many will ultimately the "badness" of others!

ClaudiaofBree....Anborn is vile,his evil seems to know no bounds....he is not driven by passion

( like Bramblethorn in M. Bradfords's engrossing images), or by lust...like your well crafted ruffians...but by vengeance and a misplaced sense of reprisal...he_ will_ have what though was his due....no matter who he hurts!

endymion....Anborn is vile, beyond reason I'm afraid....passion and resentment will do that to a man! ( or a woman I suppose....). Frodo will recover....and yes, you guessed it, the love and caring...hobbity snuggles...will be important! Sorry for your confusion....Sam wants to "head out" right away....but you'll see in the next chapter ( 22) that Gimli....while wanting to be supportive, also feels a sense of responsibility...and he won't "seek" help himself until the next morning. Sam knows he can do nothing alone....and so he waits....

Frodo's world was pain. Pain was the only sense he could put a name to, that had any meaning to him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes the pain would be more as he felt hand or leather straps assail him. At times it would be less as he was left to merely hang by wrists made slippery with his own blood from the chafing of the rope about them, hands and arms lost to all sensation save numbness. But, there was always the company of pain. In his moments of semi-wakefulness he found himself wondering if he'd snapped, if his mind so long beset by shadows and the weight of evil, had finally left him. His thoughts wove in and out of his control and he found himself wondering if the scream he'd last emitted was to be the last sound he would ever make, for he could not bring sound forth any longer, no matter the pain.

His muteness drove Anborn into a frenzy of anger as he sought to bully the battered Hobbit with words as well as force. "Yer pleadin' and whimperin' may give me pause halfling" the man grunted as he raised the leather thong once more. A sharp 'crack' punctuated his words and Frodo felt the coolness of a tear slide down his face. Anborn waited for Frodo's cry of anguish, but none came. He snarled his frustration, he dropped the leather strap in disgust upon the floor of the cave and let it lie there, it's blood encrusted ends a clear testament to the pain it had inflicted. He slowly walked around the nearly senseless Hobbit dangling before him, stopping in front of him he grasped Frodo's cheeks cruelly, his filthy fingers leaving dirt to mingle with the sheen of tears and sweat. "Ye'll not escape my attentions this easily my sweet, I 'll have ya beggin' for mercy...I'll hear yer howls of pain...as my men heard mine" the angry soldier stared with hatred into the pain dulled eyes of the ringbearer. "Oh yes" Anborn continued "Ye'll not be let off so easily....for I certainly was not!". 

Frodo's vision became blurry, the face of terror before him faded in and out of view until his eyes rolled back and his head lolled forward as he lost consciousness. A sudden wave of icy water hit him fully, streams of cold running down his back and through his hair, the water and blood dripping and pooling beneath him in shades of pink and crimson. His eyes, now fully open, could not tear themselves away from the puddles that ran together under him and he found his disjointed mind thinking how the colors reminded him the rose bushes outside his window at Bag End. Anborn was before him again and Frodo felt long fingers grip his wet curls as his head was forced back and his eyes once more stared into the cold grey depths of pure hatred. "I'm not yet finished with you" the man said, his voice filled with disdain "where's yer manners? Ye should look ta yer betters as they speak ta ya." Anborn backhand Frodo to give his words meaning and getting no response backhanded him several more times until Frodo finally communicated the only way he could, he nodded. "That's better" Anborn snarled as he paused in his beating long enough to take stock of the hobbit before him. "My brother tells me yer held high in the favors 'o the King...how high we shall soon see...though he might not find ya so much ta his likin' when I'm done with ya" Anborn ran his hand slowly down Frodo's bruised and swollen face and over his wet chest. Frodo trembled from the chill of the water and the indignity of the man's caress. Anborn laughed "Find that ta yer likin' did ya?...Well there's more where that came from " Anborn brought both hands to Frodo's cheeks and held his face cupped lovingly between his large hands and as his pitiless grey eyes stared to the depths of terror stricken blue he brought his lips down in a bruising and brutal kiss. Frodo felt shame and humiliation fill him, he fought it, willing his anger to rise up and fight this indignity he struggled to free his face from Anborns grasp. Anborn held him all the tighter, hands squeezing, crushing the small head before him, his lips exerted his violent control. With a last weary effort, Frodo managed to place a well aimed kick to Anborns body that caused the man to yelp in pain and back away holding the spot where the kick had landed. 

Frodo was gasping for air and watched in horror as Anborn's anger took control of him. "Ya'll pay fer that" he gasped as he picked up a piece of kindling from the nearby hearth and brought it down repeatedly upon the Hobbit's head and torso. "Anborn...stop it, ye'll kill him" Dalmer screamed as Anborn felt his hand stopped in mid swing. The two brothers stood stock still and stared one another down. With hands still raised, Anborn panting in his rage, Dalmer continued "Brother...control yer anger....killin' 'em won't help you get back what you've lost...nor will it get us what we've worked so hard for." The rage slowly left Anborn's face, the fire in his eyes slowly went out and he lowered his arms as he dropped the stick. Anborn looked to the now unconscious figure of the Hobbit, blood ran down his face from a gash upon his head and the ribbon of red slowly dripped, tiny rivulets adding darker pigments to the puddles of water beneath him. 

Anborn laughed, his harsh laughter sounding unnaturally loud in the stark resonating depths of the cave. "Yes Dalmer...yar right....I won't get back what I've lost" he harshly gripped Frodo's damp and bloody curls yanking his head back to view the fair features of the Hobbit, "but nor will he." He let go the dark curls and allowed Frodo's head to fall forward to his chest. He stepped back and admired his handiwork as his brother's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Anborn, ye've had him here long enough...what's done 'tis done. The Children 'ave refused ta go ta the mines since ye've 'ad 'im here....and my scouts tell me we may have company soon. We gotta get him back ta the children's cave....way ta the back. I'm sending Galen in ta bring 'im back." Dalmer walked forward and placed a companionable arm about his brother's shoulders "Let him recover some...let me get a few more day's a work outta them orphans....then we'll take care of 'em once and fer all and you may yet have more time ta....enjoy yerself with this one" he said tilting his head in the direction of the battered hobbit before them.

Anborn laughed " 'tis a deal brother....I'm afraid I have no more patience for halfling games right now....but if yer lucky...I may share 'im with ya later." Dalmer grimaced a bit "Thank ya fer thinkin' of me...but I'll stick with the lasses.....now let's get him outta here."

Frodo,was dimly aware of voices, words spoken that registered only as strings of sounds in his fevered mind. Soon the voices faded and he was left alone, he forced himself to look deep within himself, sought a quiet spot within his mind, a place of peace to rest. His body found the refuge of a catatonic state and he held to his oblivion, willing his mind to retreat to the smallest corner of his being, and he refused to come back. 

He felt hands upon him again, he fought to back away from conscious thought, strove to maintain the sanctuary of comfort his battered mind had found, but these hands were gentle, caring and he craved the kindness of their touch. He listened again as words flowed about him, sounds that wove a soothing blanket of concern, and he began to make sense of what was happening around him. 

The hands held him gently, cautiously cutting the ropes from his raw wrists until arms that had lost all sensation began the new agony of gradually returning circulation. He felt himself cradled carefully in strong arms which sought to wrap his chilled and naked form in the softness of a large cloak. He was dimly aware of being seated, propped beside the figure of the one who'd cut him down, and of water being placed near his lips. He knew that somehow he was meant to do something with the water, but had forgotten how to swallow and felt the wetness flow down his chin. The arms brought him once more closer, wrapped him in the protection of a firm embrace and supportive lap. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself looking into the face that belonged to the hands and arms that offered comfort. The face looked to him, brow furrowed and lips moving, the face was upset and as Frodo stared vacantly at the features above him he wondered why he was worthy of such upset. The face was urging, begging him, pleading for him to give up his sanctuary. He stared for what seemed forever to the face, not wanting to comprehend, not wanting to come back to sensations of pain and misery, but through his mist of denial, the words the face spoke began to make sense. 

Galen had stared in horror at the scene before him as he was bidden to collect what was left of Frodo to return him to the children's cave. The battered and filthy hobbit moved not at all and for a brief moment he feared he'd come too late. He strode across the room taking his knife from his sheath he quickly cut him down and was relieved to find the barest traces of life in the Hobbit's weak heartbeat and shallow breaths. He cradled him gently, tried to wrap his battered and icy body in a cloak and sat beside him on a nearby cot. He spoke anxiously, trying to gain entrance to the hobbit's mind. He attempted to give the injured hobbit water, to no avail. Frodo did not respond so he carefully picked him up and placed him upon his lap and tried again. "Mr. Frodo" he whispered, his big voice cracking with the strain of trying to quiet itself to soft and gentle tones "Oh Frodo...sir...fer what he's done ta ya...I'll spend my life sick for the world of men" he gulped and swallowed a building sob "we gotta get yer back ta the wee ones Sir...they refused ta work when ye didn't come back...fer two days they been on strike" he couldn't hide the pride he felt in the actions of these hardy orphans...but he still hadn't gotten through, hadn't penetrated the fog that had wrapped itself about the Hobbit's senses, he tried again. He gently stroked Frodo's matted curls "Dalmer says we got visitors comin'...the King's provisioning officers...they're halflings too Sir....I've got orders ta get ya back to the children...deep in the tunnels...so they don't come upon ya, or so Dalmer says." Frodo's head lolled listlessly against Galen's broad chest as the man carefully stood up and began to move back towards the opening of the cave.

Frodo heard "Provisioning officers"..."Halfings too" and the sounds suddenly became words and in a storm of understanding his thoughts began to return to him. He gasped, as if he'd been underwater and had suddenly found air. Galen stopped his movements and looked with concern to the hobbit he carried so carefully in his arms. "Sir?" Galen asked, his eyes searching the swollen and bruised face beneath his gaze as he waited for a reply. Frodo put his last remnant of strength into this next effort "stop.....down....here" he whispered weakly. Galen looked to the mingled water and blood upon the floor at his feet and looked questioningly to Frodo. Frodo tried again "down...now....please" he gasped. Galen knelt carefully, not wanting to put the battered Hobbit into the mess at his feet, but Frodo's eyes pleaded and so Galen lay him gently upon his side and watched as Frodo found his last reserves of strength and scratched several symbols in the mud left by his blood and watery torment. When Frodo appeared to be done Galen lifted him once more in his arms and started back out of the cave, but his curiosity got the better of him and he asked. "What was that ye scratched on ta the floor Sir?" Frodo's whisper could barely be heard so Galen bent his head closer to Frodo's bruised lips and listened again "elvish....symbols" he said, voice barely registering in the hearing of the large man. Galen nodded and he looked to the Hobbit's large blue eyes "What symbols Sir....what da they say?" he prompted. Frodo took a deeply indrawn and shuddering breath, tears welled up making his eyes seem even larger "namarie mea goveanen.......it means...it is a way to say farewell." Frodo closed his eyes, exhausted by the weight of the message and the effort it took to leave it. As Galen continued through the tunnels to the children's cave, he saw a single tear slip through the dirt and bruises and blood upon the hobbit's face.


	22. Chapter 22: Revealing

Faces of War

Chapter 22: Revealing 

Disclaimer: These characters are lovingly crafted by J.R.R. Tolkein, bless him, I promise to only have fun for a short while with the whimsy of his imagination...and of course, I gain nothing...well nothing short of hours of bonding with my computer!

Warning.....this chapter features a re-telling of events in Cirith Ungol that are a little unpleasant for Frodo and Sam....please skip the last three paragraphs if it is not to your liking....these sections are necessary to build plausibility for later events.....

Shire Baggins.....Sam should go insane with all the pain and guilt he carries! The pureness of his love carries him through some pretty horrific moments. Yes, poor Frodo, putting the "resilient hobbit" theory to the test once more! Don't worry though, even through his pain he will "pull it together" enough to aid those he loves!

Iorhael....Thank you for your flattering words....I am trying to appeal to the senses....and will continue to work on this...for me this writing, as fun as it is, aids me in my own "painting with words" as I seek to improve my co-habitation with the words that surround me! Stand firm Iorhael....Frodo will surprise us all!

Endymion2....More on the children's strike in later chapters...there was a"cost" for their disobedience....but the retrieval of Frodo was more than worth it for them....Frodo's message is one written in his darkest moments, but he is a realist...right now his chances of survival don't look good and he wants to contact his dear friends this one last, desperate time!

A commotion outside the labyrinth of caves and tunnels began as the wagons of the King's provisioning officers made their way down the lone narrow path that wound it's way to the entrance of the quarry. Dalmer looked to his brother "we're but three days from the transfer, three days til the riches of the King are ta be ours" he sneered in contempt as his eyes narrowed in the hardness of his stare "yer lust had best not cost us brother." The wagons drew closer and Dalmer squinted against the glare of the sun and watched as three halflings and a dwarf came into view. They watched in silence, the noise of whips cracking, shouting of orders and hammers meeting stone the only sound that rose up to meet them. Anborn watched the proceedings of the quarry, he found it most satisfying to think that the glory of Gondor would be restored by slaves from the great war. Yet, he was even more pleased that he'd be making his way in this world on the backs of not just slaves, but through the misery of a certain halfling. Dalmer gave his brother a last warning glance and a hurried "let me do the talkin' " and walked forward to welcome the King's officers as the two heavily laden carts pulled to a stop before him.

Gimli clambered down from the wagon seat and handed the reins to Sam. Pippin and Merry hopped down from their perch on the second wagon and busily began rummaging through their stock as Gimli approached Dalmer. The surly dwarf stomped without distraction to the side of the quarry foreman "I've found the supplies ye requested, lucky fer you the last camp we went to bartered fer stock we had lots of. Now step aside gentleman, we've got more stops ta make....we'll put the bedding supplies where they belong." Dalmer stepped closer and stared suspiciously at the impatient dwarf "bedding? I don't recall puttin' in a order fer beddin' " he looked down at the sturdy figure before him. Gimli widened his stance, placing one hand on the hilt of his ax and waving the parchment before him "I've a request right here" he said gruffly.

Dalmer looked inquiringly at his brother who merely shrugged as he replied mockingly "I requested it brother, I've been lacking in night time comforts of late." Dalmer glared at Anborn and advanced upon him angrily before he recalled his visitors, recovering himself he said with a forced show of friendliness "well, not much wrong with a little comfort....after a hard days labor eh brother?" Dalmer turned to Gimli "all right then, put it over there and my men 'll bring it in."

Pippin, who'd been been standing by the second cart came to Gimli's side "now then, we've got trades set for the next two camps down the pass, we'll be needin' ta make sure we leave you with just the right sizes and such....I've got to hold on to as much stock as I can you know" he said, eyes wide and innocent in their appeal. Sam, who'd been sitting atop the first wagon watching the men before him with loathing had a sudden uneasy feeling in his stomach, there was something about the grey eyed man that sent a shock of ill will coursing through him....he felt that some how he'd known and hated this man before. He climbed down "show me the beds yer needin' coverin's for, and I'll make short work of a fittin'...I know these supplies right well since I loaded the cart" he said in his no nonsense style.

Sam picked up the bedding supplies and he and Pippin started up the path behind Dalmer to the mouth of the cave. Dalmer put a rough hand to Pippin's shoulder to stop him, glaring with barely disguised disdain at the halfling. Merry, who'd been carefully and casually counting the guards about them, stiffened and reached slowly for his dagger, knowing he'd protect his cousin at any cost. Anborn broke the tension "come now brother, let the _little ones_ do their work, surely the work of fittin' a bed is not a mans work....let them have their small job completed" he said laughing. Gimli bristled in anger but one quick look of warning from Sam calmed him. He walked back to Merry and made a show of unloading more bedding and going through the inventory on the cart.

Dalmer glared at his brother then turning to Sam and Pippin said with barely veiled sarcasm "very well, my brother shall accompany you as you do the Kings _work_." With that, Anborn gestured for Sam and Pippin to lead the way as they waled to the opening of the cavern. 

The cave was dark and cool after the glare of the sun and it took a few moments for the hobbit's eyes to adjust to the shadows. They walked with Anborn between them, he kept an occasional hand to Pippins neck or shoulder to guide them as they made their way back through the maze of tunnels. Sam looked about him,' no sign of children' he found himself thinking 'but these here tunnels could go back a ways'. Abruptly Anborn stopped and lifted a ragged blanket that acted as a partition, they entered Anborn's sleeping quarters. Pippin chattered away, asking questions and rambling on about the supplies they'd bring next time as he tried to keep the man's attention away from Sam's perusal of the surrounding space. Sam was making a show of fitting the awkwardly sized bed as his eyes wandered the chamber and his mind tried to soak in all the details about him. He found himself staring at a beam that spanned the opening to another space, a roughly hewn beam with two ropes dangling down from the ends, two ropes that were discolored at the ends.

His feelings of unease and fear, feelings which had stalked him as he'd approached the quarry, now came upon him in full force. His eyes darted madly about the space near the beam, drops of red and pink fluid splatted a nearby wall. The muddied sand beneath the beam was delicately awash in the remnants of small puddles of water whose hues varied from the lightest of rose pinks to the darkness of crimson. Amidst the colors were symbols, symbols meant to be gracefully arrayed, symbols whose shapes had been formed with the clumsiness of a child, their awkward rendering as out of place as the colored fluid in which they were etched. 

As Pippin continued to try and distract Anborn's attentions, and as he sought to avoid the casually wandering hands of their guide, he saw Sam's face whiten and his hands shake and feared his friend would faint. He wondered just what his friend had seen to cause him such discomfort and was about to try and go to him as he felt the hands of their host become more adventurous. Pippin, casually moving yet again away from Anborn's hand, which was near to his backside said "Sam, the beddin' tis a perfect fit, tis best we go then....we've more trades awaitin' us." Sam nodded woodenly and gathered the remaining bedding and headed towards the entrance of the room. Anborn looked to to Pippin, his eyes traveling up and down the hobbit, appraising what was before him, and liking what he found. He moved slowly to block Pippin's exit and the hobbit suddenly realized that the man's persistent friendly and personal gestures had been more than just overtures of welcome. 

Anborn leered openly at the wide eyed hobbit and backed him up against a wall, lifting a hand to caress Pippins curls then slowly placed his other hand about the Hobbits neck, his hand encircling it fully. "What's yer hurry sweet thing? No time ta play with a real man?" he said getting down on one knee and pulling Pippin's face closer. Pippin gasped as he felt Anborn's grip tighten and his air supply dwindle. Sam, still in shock from his discovery was about to exit the room when he turned to see the man pull Pippin towards him and kiss him full upon the lips. Pippins face was white and his legs trembled as he pushed with all his strength against Anborn's massive chest trying desperately to break free from his grasp. 

A sudden image of another cave, and another hobbits fear came to him and he realized why the man's face seemed so familiar. With a bellow of rage that echoed through the caves Sam dropped the remaining bedding and took up a stick of kindling from the nearby hearth. As he dove forward with surprising speed he was able to focus his hatred, to release his pent up fears in one mighty swing and as the stick broke upon Anborns' head the man dropped as a stone to the ground. Sam grabbed Pippin's hand quickly and started pulling him toward's the entrance "master Pippin, are ye all right?" and not waiting for an answer said "we gotta go,_ now_!" As they exited the room Sam cursed himself for not recalling Anborns face sooner. Sam ran, not letting lose Pippins hand, he tried to recall some landmarks from their trip in, but all the tunnels looked the same. Sam felt a moment of panic, they had to get out, had to seek more aid....for he knew now that his master was here somewhere, trapped with the foul likes of men such as these and his blood ran cold. As they ran they met with a sudden obstacle and the two hobbits found themselves in a heap upon the floor as a loud "umpf" was heard before them.

The obstacle turned out to be one of the camp guards and Sam readied himself to fight his way out of the cave when to his surprise Galen offered him his hand "there ye go master halfling, it's sorry I am that I did not hear ya coming...yer feet are much quieter than those of the men about here" he said with a faint smile. Sam pulled Pippin to his feet and still staring at the seemingly friendly man brushed the dirt from his masters cousin. Sam stared suspiciously at the man towering before them " thank you kindly, now we must be back to the wagons, we've more deliveries to make" Sam said as he backed away and headed for another opening. Galen laughed, "now young sir, ye'll not be going far down that tunnel....'tis this way ye'll want ta go" he said as he gestured to a tunnel to his right. 

A sudden moan of pain came echoing forth from behind them and Sam blanched in fear " we must go now, thank you kind sir." he said voice trembling as he pulled a still silent Pippin behind him. Galen narrowed his eyes and a sudden thought came to him and he placed a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder "you're his Sam are ye not master halfling?" the burley guard whispered in sudden understanding, as he realized who these procurement officers were and what their true task was. 

Sam's eyes flew open wide and his mouth dropped but a moment as he demanded "ye know of him, where is he? Is he safe?" and as he was about to ask more questions another groan and a louder exclamation of pain came forth from the room not too far behind them. Galen looked to the tunnel behind them "yer Frodo's Sam aren't ya?...he's...." just as the guard was about to speak a loud bellow of rage came from behind them. "No time Sam" Pippin hissed, finally coming back to his senses as he attempted to pull Sam forward. Galen nodded "he's right, follow this path, stay to the right and ye'll come out jest fine. I'll see ta him Sam, I'll care for yer master...jest go and get yerself some help" Galen hissed impatiently. With a last forlorn look Sam allowed himself to be pulled from the confines of the cool, dank mustiness of the cave and into the bright sunshine. They did their best to look casual and cooly climbed back atop the wagons, bid Dalmer a "good day" and made their way briskly to the steep path leading out of the quarry.

Galen watched the two hobbits disappear from view and hearing his captain moan again decided there was only one thing to do. He abruptly slammed his head against the wall of the cavern and waited for the blood to flow. He then stumbled to the door of Anborn's room and stood swaying as the blood from his self inflicted wound fell into his eyes. He stumbled to the hunched figure of Anborn and pulled him carefully to his feet. "Them foul halflings took a wack ta my head as well as I tried ta question them. Are ye all right then Captain Anborn? Shall I fetch Toleman?" Galen asked desperately trying to stall and give the hobbits more time to escape.

"Cursed creatures" Anborn growled as he staggered to his feet. Galen helped him to the freshly made bed and sat him down carefully as he handed him a dampened cloth for the growing bump upon his head. "Well I shall get the best of 'em yet, they'll see " Anborn grumbled as he pushed away Galen's offer of help as he stood unsteadily a moment, then still mumbling to himself went off in search of his brother.

Gimli and Merry drove their carts with no outward sign of haste, yet their hearts were racing as they sought the top of the ridge before Anborn awoke. In moments they had crested the top of the hill and all breathed a sigh of relief as they looked back and saw no sign of pursuit. They kept the carts moving, wanting to put as much distance as possible between them and the Quarry. Gimli looked back to the second cart, he noted the redness of Pippin's face and the comforting way Merry threw his arm about his cousins shoulder. Then he looked to Sam, the sturdy hobbit had not spoken since climbing atop the seat and Gimli could see by the shaking of his hands and the paleness of his face that something had been found in the cave. "Master Gamgee" the dwarf tried his best to soften the gruffness of his voice, the result was a sound not unlike the purr of a big cat. Sam continued to stare mindlessly ahead so Gimli tried another tactic, "Sam" he said gently as he reached to his friend's knee. 

Sam turned to Gimli, eyes awash with tears "'e's there Gimli...he's there and those foul men are hurtin' him...he won't make it this time" he whispered brokenly. Sam turned away from the dwarf and for the rest of the ride that afternoon, as the wagons sought the passages out of the mountains, Sam spoke no more.

As the sun was sinking into it's nest of rose and violet hues in the notch between the mountains, they made camp. Sam wordlessly went about making the fire, unpacking the cooking gear and readying the supplies to make the evening meal. Merry and Pippin, having spoken with a very worried dwarf, approached Sam and urged him to sit. "Now Sam, the meal will wait....I've heard from Pip about the happenings in the cave and he's fine, now it's you were worrying for Sam" Merry said softly and his eyes once more sought his cousin's, Pippins green eyes twinkled with their usual spirit and Merry breathed a sigh of relief. Sam turned a pained look to Pippin "It's sorry I am Master Pippin that I did not recall the face 'o that monster sooner....mayhap I could've spared ya" he said bitterly. Pippin sat down next to Sam and reached a reassuring hand to the sturdy shoulder beside him " 'tis ok Sam....his kiss was rather like my great Aunt Petunia's...misplaced and unwanted....but I don't think of her kisses so I'm certain I'll think no more of his" Pippin said lightly wanting to relieve Sam's guilt. 

Gimli appeared by the side of the fire with more kindling in his hands, he loudly dropped it and shaking the dirt from his hands said loudly "well, what is it then? Give it up Master Gamgee, what did ye see in the cave that is troubling you merry little ones so?" Sam stared a moment into the depths of the fire and picking up a stick scratched the symbols for _namarie mae goveanen_ in the dirt at his feet. Merry looked quizzically towards the words and waited for Sam's translation. Sam sighed heavily and whispered " 'tis elvish for _farewell my friends_", he reached up to wipe a tear from his eye and turned away from the fire to look at Merry "he's leavin' us...I found these symbols scratched into the dirt beneath a beam where he'd been tormented....his blood was still there amongst his wretched message...he can't bear this torment again...he just can't" Sam said and he buried his face in his hands and began to cry.

Pippin looked to Merry for support and wrapped an arm about Sam's shaking shoulders. "Sam, we've...Mer and me, well we've been through some tough times these past months...I don't know what I'd a done without the comfort of my Merry." Pippin smiled woefully at his cousin and continued "when times got bad Sam, when there seemed no hope, we, well we had each other....we could reach ta one another and somehow we knew that as long as we had each other..well that somehow things would be all right in the end." Sam continued to sob, but was trying to control his tears and Pippin gave him a quiet moment to slow his cries and then continued "but Sam, my dear strong and sturdy Sam....you're carrying all your pain and and his too, for I know ye'd never show Frodo your hurts for fear of makin' his worse." Pippin wiped a tear from his own eye and looked to Merry and Gimli, the dwarf was red faced and wiped his eye muttering about "infernal dust" as he turned away. Pippin swallowed hard and as Sam's sobs gradually subsided said softly "you can't Sam, not even with yer big broad shoulders, your loyalty and love...ya can't carry your pain and his as well. " Sam wiped his sleeve across his eyes and stared into the fire as Pippin pleaded "You must lighten yer burden Sam, tell us what horror, what dark memory brings you both to such agony."

Sam opened his eyes wide and threw his head back, straining his neck so that his eyes saw naught but the stars above. He said a prayer to the lady that he was making the right choice and he began. He told of the darkness of Mordor, the treason of Gollum and the stench of Shelob's lair. He recounted the bravery Frodo displayed as he sought to face down the giant spider and the utter despair he felt as he found his master lying insensible, dead to all appearances and wrapped in the shroud of his gossamer prison. He whispered of his heart rending pain and his desire to seek the ease of death, knowing that the point of Sting was far kinder than a life without his dearest friend. His voice grew hard as he spoke of his desire for revenge and his need to track the malicious evil of Gollum to avenge the waste of a life he held so dear. His hands shook as he told of the taking of Frodo to the tower, of the utter helplessness he felt as they bore away not carrion but the living flesh of his master. 

Sam stopped a moment in his tale, he clenched his hands and grimaced, his eyes clouded in pain he told of his discovery of Frodo in the tower. Sam's voice grew soft and gentle with compassion as he continued "I found him after searchin' that labyrinth of death filled tunnels and rooms built far torment... he was lying cold and naked upon the floor, covered with blood and filth he was, bruised and torn from where they used him for their foul sports." he looked to Pippin and Merry, his eyes seeking understanding "he was gutta his head with pain and from their whippings, fear and shame shook him as I tried ta wrap him in the comfort of my arms."

Sam's face, like the many facets of a shattered mirror, reflected the layers of pain and despair he'd experienced that day. He sought to control his emotions once more as his hitching breaths gave way to a once more calm and yet deadened voice " 'e didn't know me, didn't know his Sam...but he saw the release that death would bring him and he reached for Sting....want in' to bring an end to his shame and torment the only way he could." Sam paused to see the horror in Merry's eyes, the pain in Pippin's and the anger in Gimli's and he continued " I near did let him end it there, I wanted ta spare him the future I feared he'd find...I nearly let him end it 'cause I loved 'em too much to have him bear a pain his Sam could not help him with".

The crackle of the fire was the only sound to break the stillness of the night as Sam's voice, numb from pain and soaked in guilt continued "we came back from hell, we came back...or least a ways our bodies did, but Frodo's spirit died in that horrid place..." Sam's voice was thick with unshed tears, his emotions suddenly paralyzed by his self doubt "and I've wondered each and every hour...if I done right by him that day." He stared at the mesmerizing dance of the flames before him "I made him go on, I leant him my strength, my will, my hope...and now, now it's happened again, he's been forced ta endure the lust and greed of others, to relive his most dark memories, his deepest shame...and I don't have no more strength ta give 'im."

Merry blinked back his tears and reached for Sam's hand. Sam looked numbly at the hand holding his " I kept him going through Mordor, through suffering' of both mind and body ye can't even imagine, cause I couldn't live a life without him. I couldn't bear the thought of bein' in a place that didn't have his gentle love of what was good and right in this world." Sam frowned and shook his head " I kept him alive, a treasure I hoped for all ta value as I did, and now...now I gotta let him go. I gotta let him go 'cause I see I was wrong." Pippin opened his mouth to protest, but Sam stopped him with a raised hand "oh no Master Pippin," Sam's voice was strong and grew angrier with each word uttered "I'm right on this, 'cause this world don't deserve 'im, a world that takes away the hope and spirit of it's angels don't deserve to have 'em." A single tear fell from Sam's reddened eyes and he looked imploringly at Merry "I gotta help 'em Master Merry, I gotta help him do...or have...or give up what 'e needs ta to find his final peace. Then, then I gotta find a way ta live without 'em, whilst I find a way ta live with myself after all I done." Sam slowly stood up, letting Merry's hand fall limply from his own, he turned to walk into the darkness of the night but turned to face his companions once more "and I don't know if I can" he whispered to the dark.

  



	23. chapter 23: Surfacing

Faces of War:

Chapter 23: Surfacing

Disclaimer: The characters of this story are the property of one J.R.R. Tolkien, a master of fantasy writing. I am only borrowing these characters for a short time and gain nothing, save the enjoyment of writing, from their usage.

Shire Baggins: Sam is almost ready to give up...not becasue he wants to...but because he feel guilty that Frodo's life is not what it was before the quest...and he know what evil memories stand between Frodo and his healing. Anborn is a bit of a dolt when it comes to his housekeeping skills isn't he? Ah well....he didn't count on the intuitive skills and powers of observation that hobbits are endowed with! Besides....I needed Sam to find some clues to Frodo's presence!

Endymion2: Yes, Anborn is cruel and rather "thick" in his own way....a bad combination, yes....especially when he feels "outsmarted" by one half his size! Galen knows of Sam, which you'll hear more of later, because Frodo has spent the evenings of captivity soothing the children with tales ( which include Sam) and Galen overheard some of them....Sam is losing his hope...he has seen the pains Frodo endured in the past, and can't bear to think of what a future filled with those nightmares might bring his master. In a truly "Sam" way of thinking....if Mr. Frodo can't have the simple well lived life of a hobbit...then Frodo's need to find peace may be a journey to death that Sam will be able to accept.

Frodo felt his pain. He wrapped himself in this harsh reminder of his life, for with each twitch and fever induced chill he knew himself to be yet alive. He was submerged in his world of pain, awash with fear, doubt and depression and his broken mind wandered. The brutality of his last days had taken his hope and he felt the strength of his formally indomitable spirit began to waiver. A world of such hatred, a place where torment was visited upon others for sport, a humanity that was capable of inflicting pain to bring themselves wealth at any cost.... this was not the Middle Earth he had fought to save. His memories of the last days were a darkness he could not face and he sought to remain lost in his mind, hoping that within himself he'd find his peace.

The reality of his life came to him as another wave of chills forced his pain wracked body to move and he whimpered. " 'e's comin' back ta us Galen" a shaky voice whispered as he felt a cool hand upon his brow. Suddenly another set of hands gently rolled his body to his side, and Frodo knew if he were only to open his eyes he'd see those who sought to help him. His mind ached with the effort of trying to recall after all his torment, why he was worthy of such tending. His tortured thoughts and emotions would not allow him to believe that this was real, 'no' he thought 'they will hurt me too' and he tried to draw back within the himself, to surrender once more to his unconsciousness. A tear, that was not of his own making fell upon his face "please Frodo, we need ya Sir....yer Princess needs ya ta come back to us." a sad and remote voice penetrated the layers of Frodo's haze as he tried to recall the name behind the words.

Kylos looked, stricken to the worried face of the guard " Galen, he will come back...won't he?" The burley man could not meet the desperation in the boy's eyes and instead stroked the hair of the broken hobbit beside him " come now sir, ye've got ta try again Frodo...we've plans ta make, the children need ya and we've not got much time...please sir ye must come back ta us" the fear and sadness in the man's voice found it's way to Frodo's thoughts and he felt himself being pulled back. Frodo reluctantly gave up the respite of his mind and struggled to open his eyes, needing to see the voices whose pain seemed to match his own.

He opened his eyes, his gaze, unfocused and blurry at last cleared and he found himself looking upon the faces of a boy and large man who appeared to be a soldier. He tried, but he had no way to associate these faces and voices with any memory, his fevered state would allow him no access to clear thoughts. Galen, noting the confusion in the pain dulled eyes of the halfling guessed at his state of disorientation and soothingly wiped a cool cloth upon Frodo's forehead. "He 'tis fevering but good Kylos, we've gotta get them herbs of Tolemans's in ta him" he said as he gestured to Kylos to bring the cup from a nearby table. As Frodo continued to stare upon the unfamiliar face of the large man, Galen slipped an arm gently behind Frodo's neck and shoulders, shifting him enough to lift his limp form to a semi seated position against him. Frodo grew dizzy from the change of position and clutched the man's tunic in alarm. "Shh, 'twill be jest fine in a moment sir...let's get some of this in ta ya". The gentleness of the man's words and motions put Frodo at ease and he willingly opened his mouth to accept the drink offered. His tongue felt leaden, his dry and cracked lips bled as accommodating the brim of the cup forced his lips to stretch beyond the capacity of his dehydrated skin. The sensation of drink was a wonder, he felt he'd never had anything so good and he sighed in contentment, knowing that through his layers of pain one of his needs was being tended to.

Galen nearly cried to see the simple gratitude in the eyes of the hobbit in his arms, to be so grateful for a drink after all he'd been through, it made his anger rise within him and he swore that he'd rid the world of Anborn's evil presence....as soon as he could see the little ones safe. "Frodo sir, ye have ta try and stay with us...the children need yer help." Galen stared into the wide blue eyes beneath him, he wasn't sure if he'd yet seen any spark of recognition in the the depths of Frodo's gaze and was worried that perhaps the last days had been too much, perhaps the halfling would not leave the recesses of his mind again. He set his lips in an angry hard line, after all the hobbit had endured, he could not fault him nor blame him if he were to hide forever in his veil of madness.

A sudden commotion behind him caused Galen to turn about and lay Frodo back down upon the pallet, carefully adjusting him so that he lay once more upon his side. A blur of a little girl came flying towards him and he quickly stood up and caught her before she could throw herself onto the injured hobbit. "Slow up there lassie, ye'll do him no good by crushin' him now....here, set next ta him and ye can settle him with yer talk whilst I go gather the dressings from the table." Galen, admonishing Rosetta to be careful, placed her beside Frodo on the pallet and with a warning glance to Kylos went to gather the healing supplies from nearby. He returned in moments as set himself about the task of organizing the supplies he'd need to bandage and care for the halflings injuries.

Rosetta, her small pink mouth trembling with sadness bent over and took one of Frodo's slender dirt and blood covered hands in hers...she caressed his hand gently and stared into the haze of his troubled gaze. Frodo looked with wonder upon the beauty of the small face beside him. The pert and innocent look of blond curls and dark blue eyes with the sweetness of her small features reminded him of someone...he listened as she spoke. Rosetta's voice was small in the vastness of the cave, but Frodo followed every word as if it were spoken by a great host of angels, so powerful was it's message. "The bad men hurt you Sir Frodo...but on the outside is where they hurt ya...bad men can only hurt the outside...remember Sir Frodo? That's what ya told me...that the bad men can't hurt ya on the inside and it's the inside of a person that really matters....remember? " Rosetta searched his face for any sign of recognition or twinge of memory and for a long moment, saw nothing but blank and hollow eyes staring at her in return. She took her hand and rubbed it upon the stump of his missing finger and she continued, her voice becoming stronger and more certain with each word "badness can't get ya inside Sir Frodo, in all the great tales the badness goes to a place where the goodness of others makes it better...don't you remember?" She paused and looked once again into the depth of his blue eyes "you must remember..." she begged, her voice fading in it's sadness and pain. 

Frodo looked from one face to another, careworn man to guarded teen to saddened child and he remembered. A wave of images past came upon him and he saw in his mind moments of warmth and love. He remembered days of shared misery, nights of elvish tales told and songs sung to soothe the scared among them, times spent teaching the intricacies of Sindarian to eager minds ready to rebel against their plight. He recalled restless nights of snuggled sleep and the pain and drudgery of enforced labor. He remembered the the warmth of love given without fear and the joy of unconditional acceptance...he felt his haze part as the mists that had obscured his memories lifted, his heart lightened and a tear came from his eye as he whispered " I remember" in a voice cracked and broken from pain but filled with love. 

Rosetta was unable to help herself and threw her arms about Frodo's neck, tears silently falling into the dirt and bruises upon the hobbit's neck and shoulders. Frodo winced in pain, but gladly bore the discomfort knowing that he could sooth the hurt of another "shh my Princess" his broken voice whispered "shh, my lass...the bad men will not take me so far from you again, you have my promise" he said weakly and added " I can not bear to be so far from your light my little one." Frodo coughed with the strain of his words and Rossetta lifted her head and stroked his dirty cheek with her tiny hand "you shall have all the light I can find Sir Frodo...your Princess will be a light forever" she said earnestly. Frodo smiled and pulled her head down to snuggle beneath his chin as he looked gratefully to Galen and Kylos. Galen took the peace of the moment to seek out Toleman, he badly needed to find some herbs to sooth Frodo to sleep for the healing tasks to come.

Galen returned moments later with Toleman in tow. As they approached the pallet they'd sequestered in the far back of the children's cavern, Galen heard a soft, soothing and gently sung lullaby. A moments remembrance rushed through him as he saw, from a distant corner of his mind, himself crooning his youngest one to sleep. 'She'd be the age of Princess by now' he thought to himself as he saw her tiny form fill his imagination. He saw in his mind her honey toned hair wind whipped from the breezes of the lake, her brown eyes laughing with mischief as she teased the black noses of the sheep with the pussy willows from the bog, small perfect hands entwined in his as they picked berries in the high meadows. His bittersweet memories turned to pain as his wondrous moment of loving memorial was exchanged for his last image of his little Kindra. Kindra lying, warm brown eyes open and vacant upon the ground, Kindra's honey locks matted with blood and her perfect hand reaching to find someone, anyone to save her. He put a hand to his head and whispered tearfully " I shoulda been there for ya my poppet...forgive yer Da for not being with ya" he begged his memory's forgiveness and with a deep sigh approached the figures huddled about the Hobbit on the pallet.

Frodo's gently sung elven tune had it's desired effect and Rosetta was sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. Frodo grimaced with pain as he shifted a bit to stroke his hand along her thin cheek. 'She 'tis too thin' he found himself thinking and reminded himself to ask Galen and Kylos what had happened while he was....he felt his breath catch in his throat, no, he could not even allow himself to think of where he had been, it hurt too much. He looked up to see Galen and Toleman standing beside him. Toleman gestured to Kylos to take the sleeping child away, they would need privacy to treat Frodo and did not want Rosetta to see the damage that had been done to the hobbit by the cruelty of Anborn. Frodo gave a fleeting kiss to Rosetta's blond curls as Kylos lifted her and walked her prone form back to her pallet a few feet away. He took a deep breath, clenched his fists nervously and waited for Toleman to begin his examination.

The grey faced old man looked apologetically to Frodo and then motioned that he should drink the herb infusion that he held before him. Frodo wrinkled his nose distastefully at the noxious odor of the drink and found himself thinking vaguely of the many foul concoctions that Strider had forced upon him in their travels. He took the cup and drank deeply as he thought 'if the taste is any indication of strength, then I shall soon feel nothing'. He forced himself to drink to the dregs of the cup and sputtering handed it back to the gnarled hand of the old man. "Thank you Toleman" he whispered " I am in your debt". The wan faced cook shook his head and Frodo knew he was indicating that no 'thanks' was needed. The hobbit smiled his reply and closed his eyes as a detached feeling of drowsiness pervaded his senses. Galen readied the dressings and herb laced water for cleansing and waited for Frodo's breathing to even out and become quieter. He had only a few moments to wait and he placed a gentle finger upon the hobbit's eyelid, pulled it upwards to check for responsiveness, and finding none, proceeded to remove the blood encrusted shirt that covered the injured halfling.

Galen and Toleman worked with mute efficiency, washing away the dirt and blood from Frodo's back, shoulders and legs. With each newly discovered welt and tear upon the pale skin, each darkened patch of bruised skin that would not wash clean, each wince of pain from the unconscious hobbit, Galen felt his resolve grow. He did not know how, or when the opportunity would present itself, but he knew he'd no longer count himself among Dalmer's band of ruffians. One glance at the tears in Toleman's eyes told the guard that he could count on the old cook when the time came. Galen paused a moment and took a deep breath to steady himself as he tended to the hobbit's leg. The blistered skin about his foot was swollen and hot to the touch and the reddish streaks that ran up his calf had lengthened and become more angry looking. The skin was hot to the touch and and his gentle bathing of the afflicted areas caused the Frodo to moan in his sleep. Toleman brought dressings soaked in echinacea and witch hazel root to reduce the swelling, but his face was grim and he shook his head slowly in answer to Galens' silent question. "How much time Toleman, how long'll he be able ta endure this infection?" the guard asked, his voice hardened and businesslike, he had to have an answer if he was to find a way to help them all escape. Toleman scratched a few numbers in the dust at his feet....2 or 3...was the message revealed by the old man's markings. 

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the pattern of Galen's thoughts and he quickly stood up and leaned nonchalantly against the nearby wall of the cavern. It would not do to allow others of Dalmer's men to see of his concerns. Dalmer himself spoke quietly in Galen's ear "How does the half high fare after the 'attentions' of my brother?" he asked, his voice feigning concern. Galen composed himself and sought to restrain his anger "he's fevering good and he'll need some stitchin' from the welts upon him." Dalmer nodded in recognition of these hurts and came closer to observe the injured hobbit as he asked maliciously "and his pride, his 'spirit' that he seemed so proud of....what of that Galen...is the runt more humble after my brother's ...most intimate of lessons?"a tiny laugh escaping his snarling lips. Galen's leader seemed unaware of the effect his words were having upon the burley soldier, yet Toleman could see the rage smoldering in the eyes of the guard and he thrust out a feeble hand to caution Galen as he moved to strike down the perpetrator of all this evil. Galen took a deep breath and answered calmly "No sir, I see no change in his spirit.....he still worries for the children and naught for himself." Dalmer looked suddenly to the guard behind him and frowned "his worries for the children are endearing to be sure....but it will gain him nothing in the end....the exchange is to happen within two days. We shall see how much longer the children shall last without the food and water I've ordered withheld....perhaps the misery of the children will show this hobbit how low he has sunk."

With a sneer and a quick extension of his leg, Dalmer's foot sought to kick Frodo, but he found his foot suddenly held and would have fallen if not for the quick thinking of Galen, who wanted to spare Frodo greater injury and grabbed Dalmer about the waist rather than see him land upon the injured hobbit. Dalmer shoved Galen's hands from him and glared at the pale face of the wide awake hobbit beside him. "You will bring food and water for the children Dalmer, or you will see nothing of the King's gold." Frodo said, his voice brittle with certainty. Dalmer laughed "it don't look like yer in a position ta be givin' orders half high....I seem to be the one in charge here." the man said as he squatted beside the pallet. Frodo sighed and shook his head, "that is where you are wrong....for I know my King, and I know he will only offer his riches for my safe return." Dalmer looked quizzically at Frodo "I shall see yer returned safe, not whole perhaps, but alive...or just barely." he smiled and ran his hand through Frodo's lank curls "alive yes, but not...shall we say, without cost to yer spirit little one...and if ye doubt my words, I am certain that my brother may be persuaded ta teach ya another lesson in manners...he should be most pleased to become acquainted with yer charms once more." 

Frodo shuddered and went white as his mind sought to take him back to his last hours with Anborn, 'no' he thought 'I must be strong'. He licked his lips and stared with unwavering intensity to the hard gaze of Dalmer " I have been gifted by the Valar Dalmer, I am to be given the choice of Numenor" Frodo paused, wondering if his words would hold meaning for one such as Dalmer. They did not and as the man narrowed his eyes and stared ,Frodo's eyes filled with pain and hardening assurance as he continued "I am to choose the hour of my long journey Dalmer, and make no mistake, if I were to choose the path of death now...there would be no rest for you...the King shall hunt you to the ends of Middle Earth, if it takes him the rest of his days." 

Dalmer looked the hobbit over carefully, watching for signs of deceit and trickery. He could see by the stiffness of the hobbit's face and the sadness in the depths of his blue eyes, that this was true. He stood up abruptly "Galen, have Toleman bring food and water for the children...as for you my half high friend, I shall delight in handing over what is left of you to our mighty King...." Dalmer nudged Frodo's injured leg with his foot roughly and smiled as the hobbit's face twisted in pain "there are many ways to die my dearest halfling...many ways" he snarled contemptuously and left with an evil laugh left in his wake.

Frodo suddenly started to tremble, the agony in his foot and the pain of his last revelation had taken their toll upon his waning strength. Galen gestured for Toleman to bring more of the sleeping draught they'd made earlier. He gently knelt down and placing his hands gently upon Frodo's bandaged shoulders lifted him up as he brought the cup to his lips. Frodo drank deeply and sighed with contentment as he began once more to feel drowsy. Galen's face looked drawn and pained and as Frodo stared to him the man felt he had to ask " is this true Frodo, can you choose the time and place of yer death?". Frodo smiled weakly and took Galen's hand in his...."I will not leave until the children are safe Galen." he whispered. Galen nodded, he knew that Frodo'd not leave until the wee ones were out of danger, but he needed to know "is it true sir, can ye just will yerself to death?". Frodo sighed tiredly and closed his eyes a moment, still holding the guards hand he pulled the man's massive hand to his heart and opened his eyes. Galen stared into the depths of a deepening blue pool and saw sadness, pain, and fear shimmering in their midst as the hobbit smiled, a lopsided grin that spoke of guilt and regret " I do not know for certain...this has been shown to me by the Valar...yet, I have not had cause to put their words to a test....at least not yet" he softly murmured as he fell once more into the safety of his dreams.


	24. chapter 24 :Protecting

Faces of War

Chapter 24: Protecting 

Disclaimer: Not my characters...but it's sure fun to have a go at pretending they are mine! All hail JRR...a true literary genius!

ClaudiaofBree: Yes, I think that Frodo has suffered the worst of his physical pain at the hands of the ruffians....he is aware of his mortality....worried that he'll not survive long enough to help the children....and giving himself more mental angst than any need suffer! He's not "out of the woods"...or shall I say "cave" yet! I continue to revise to ensure that his spirit remains a guiding light to others! Thanks for your kind words....I can only hope to entertain others as much as I do myself with these tales....."intriguing" is a wonderful notion....thank you!

Iorhael....do not despair....Frodo's strength will, though battered and beset by great evil, be sustained by the responsibility he feels towards others and the glimpses he has of his future! Galen will play a role....as will Sam, the children and other characters not yet on the scene! I continue to be amazed by your ability to "hand on to" the thread of more than one story at a time....I'm impressed! I hope that "Taken" will continue!

endymion.....I believe in that statement, that the evil of the world...be it through men, political groups or warring nations...can only affect the outside if we insist that our inner strength and convictions stay the course! Time is running out for Frodo....but he is in control of it...to some degree....although, the "bad men" have found another way to try and "force Frodo's hand"! 

Shire Baggins: The choices of Numenor will play a further role...an enlightenment as such for our pint sized hero...he will have many choices before him I'm afraid. His over whelming concern right now is the children, you are right! Some stories do have it that The "mortals" that travel to Tol Eressa can choose their "time"...within reason...for they are not granted immortality! I am aiming to have this come in around 40 chapters...I keep revising it as I go along and may need to publish the remainder of the story in a sequel of sorts....we'll see! Thanks for reading with me!

Frodo's sense of hearing seemed sharper than it had before the quest, as he tried to sleep he began to hear every attempt the children made to be quiet. Soft rustles of fabric as they sat upon their pallets, quiet snatches of conversations and the soft ragged breath of children trying to cry in secret. He finally gave up his attempts to remain in his healing sleep and lay with eyes closed listening to the activity around him and wondering whose tears he'd been privy to. He opened his eyes, the room seemed shrouded in a haze of clouds as he sought to clear the herb induced sleep from his mind. He looked beside him to the figure of a young boy, arms wrapped about his drawn up knees, setting beside Frodo. He slowly reached a hand to the knee of the figure beside him, wanting to bring solace and comfort. "Kylos" he whispered "why do you grieve child?" he asked softly.

Kylos looked up, startled to have been caught in such a display. He hastily wiped a hand across his reddened eyes to erase the evidence of his emotions. Frodo looked upon his attempts to hide his emotions with great sadness, and when no answer to his query was forthcoming, he tried again. "Kylos", he felt a cough coming on and had to pause a moment as the cough took him and sent Kylos scrambling for a cup of water, he gratefully sipped the water as Kylos helped him sit up and then waving the offer of more away, he continued. "Kylos, you mustn't hide from your feelings lad....burying your fears does not make them go away" Frodo said , his face a study in contradictions. As he uttered that placating statement, he realized how he himself was perhaps guilty of the same charge. He laughed, a harsh, demeaning and self depreciating laugh that caused Kylos to frown and Frodo said softly "I have lived through many fears, and I have tried to hide from them all.....you shall have to trust me when I say that tears are not a sign of weakness." Kylos took a deep shuddering breath and began to cry once more. Frodo, with the agony of his leg and weakness of his fevering body could do little more than reach to squeeze the boy's hand.

After a few moments, Kylos was able to steady himself and said "they've taken her Frodo, they've taken her to another part of the cavern....Galen 'tis searchin, but I am afraid for her Sir." Frodo's face went white with the weight of Kylos' words and he struggled to roll to his back and sit up. The pain of his abraded backside and the agony of his leg brought tears to his eyes and he gasped in pain. "Shh, sir, steady now....Galen says yer not ta try and sit up quite yet." The boy said as he tried to sound in charge of the situation. Frodo lowered himself once more and clenched his eyes to fight the pain of both his body and heart. "Who took her Kylos, who?" he said, his voice filled with the worst pain of all, the helpless fear of pain for another. Kylos looked as if he wanted to not answer this question and tried to avoid looking at the smoldering pain and growing hate in the hobbits eyes. Finally he could stand the tense, heavy silence no more "Anborn sir....he had two 'o his men come in here jest moments ago....I tried ta stop em...really I did...but they threw me off...I hit the wall and when I came to, she was gone." Frodo looked anxiously at the boy, noticing for the first time a tightly clenched rag which the boy had used to staunch the trickle of blood still seeping from the cut upon his head. 

Before Frodo could react to his newest discovery he detected the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked up to see Anborn and two of his men standing nearby. Kylos, with a cry of rage leapt to his feet and charged at the figure standing arms crossed upon his chest near the hobbit's bed. The two men reached quickly to grab the fury filled young one and restrained him roughly as Kylos swore at them. "Such words from the mouth of one so young...is that what the half high teaches ya to say ta yer betters?" Anborn said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Anborn gestured to his men to quiet the boy and with a quick shift of position, Kylos found himself , hands pulled behind painfully while the other man punched the boy in the stomach. Kylos tried not to cry out, not wanting to give these men the satisfaction, but the second punch to the face sent him reeling with a cry of pain, and he lay still where he'd landed. "Is that what a _real_ man does Anborn....beats up on children?" Frodo cried, voice shaking with anger " he is not the target you seek, nor is the girl...cease your games and take me if that is your wish."

With cool detached precision Anborn knelt down and caressed the hobbit gently upon his cheek allowing his hand to linger under his chin he roughly grabbed Frodo's face and said 

" I may jest take ye up on yer offer...but later, fer right now my brother is in need of yer wee one to lay some charges in the back tunnel...and yer needed ta help with the fuses, so as temptin' as ye are, my needs shall have to wait." he sneered as he loosened his grip and stood up. "Take him" Anborn said curtly to the men standing behind him. Frodo felt himself grasped by the arms and slung up upon the shoulders of one of the men. His bruised ribs thudded painfully against the mans shoulder and he let out a cry of pain. Anborn laughed "oh gentle with him lads, we've still got some use fer him...and his.... shall we say, services ". Frodo felt his head swim with dizziness as the pain from his previous torment and the agony of his throbbing leg made his breath come in short gasps. He raised his head weakly in time to see Kylos, with Galen at his side, attempt to stand, his face a contrast of pale fear and angry crimson. "Noooo" Kylos yelled as Galen restrained him and Frodo was taken once more from the security of the children's cavern.

Sam was awakened with a chortling "up ye go Master Gamgee...yer prayers to the lady have been answered, though I for one would be much more comforted with twenty of my own kin" Gimli said. Sam rubbed the blur of sleep from his eyes to see Legolas beside the dwarf, with twenty of his elven kinsmen behind him. He felt his backbone turn near to water as the relief of the sight washed over him. The early morning haze shone gently upon the quietly shimmering garb of the elves and Sam knew deep in his soul that this was the force that Frodo would find his way back to, for these proud and regal warriors seemed to share the light of his master. He scrambled awkwardly to his feet and looked from one friend to the other before throwing himself towards them and enveloped both in a hug, a tangle of arms and "thank yous" that left both elf and dwarf smiling. 

Legolas was still smiling as he reached to disengage Sam from him and he knelt to make eye contact "Sam, I know that Frodo is close to despair, but have courage, there is anger yet that sustains him....there is still time" the elf's deep and misty sea colored eyes sought to lock and hold to the hobbit's faith. With a slow and gradually accepting nod, Sam allowed the strength of the Prince of Mirkwood to buoy him for another day of hope. "What must we do Legolas? In what way can we get my Mr. Frodo from the darkness of those caverns?" Sam asked, trying to not let his hope take control of his sensibilities. 

The elves, with the hobbits and Gimli before them, formed a circle about a flat patch of earth. Legolas quickly etched the design of the camp upon the ground "we have seen guards here, here and in this location" he said as he marked a few more spots upon his crude map. The problem we face is knowing when the guards shift....we must watched them through at least a 24 hour period to ensure that our estimation of their strength is accurate" Legolas looked intently at all assembled, we must not be wrong in our estimates....for it could spell disaster if they are left in the back of the cave with no way for us to reach them. Sam thought suddenly of the kindly guard they'd met as they'd visited last time "perhaps we could find us a friend on the inside....twould that be of help Legolas?". Legolas raised one eyebrow "You hobbits have friends in many places" he said a faint smile upon his lips "of whom do you speak Sam?".

Looking mighty pleased with himself, Sam gathered all in the fellowship closer and told once more of his meeting with Galen. In just minutes a course of action was decided upon and the hobbits began to break camp as Legolas pulled a worried looking Gimli aside. "I've word from Aragorn, he's not yet heard from the captors....the messenger to tell of their meeting place is due to contact him on the morrow....he and Lord Faramir have taken a hundred of the tower guard to stake out the river points that harbor the ships." Gimli nodded "aye, sounds like a good plan....do ye not worry that your surveillance of the camp will arouse suspicion? These men are naught but animals Legolas....there's no tellin' what they might yet do to Mr. Baggins.". The elf closed his eyes but a moment and seemed to meditate upon his decision to advance to the camp, Gimli waited , as patiently as a dwarf can, for he knew his friend would do nothing rashly. Legolas opened his eyes at last, they were tinged with sadness and pain. "He contemplates his gifts Gimli, we can wait no longer." Gimli, his brows pulled together in a frown asked "what gift? Stop speakin' in riddle Elf" his voice sounding a little gruff and testy. The Prince of Mirkwood shook his head sadly and placed a slender hand upon the squareness of his friend's shoulder. "He has been gifted by the Valar Gimli, he, as with the eldar and the race of Numenor, may choose the time of his long journey." Gimli, suddenly understanding frowned " I, fer one can not see the ringbearer givin' up, he's just as stubborn as Bilbo...perhaps more". Legolas nodded as they walked to where the wagons and mounted elves were waiting "That is the hope we shall hold to then my friend. Now we must ride, we are yet a day or more from the best surveillance sites."

A sudden shock of cold and the feel of water streaming down his face left Frodo sputtering as he was woken violently from his pain induced slumber. The guards had carried him into a far passage, the dark, dank and gradually withering space around him made Frodo shudder, 'how long has it been since I have seen the light of the sun, felt a breeze upon my face or grass under my feet?' he wondered sadly. His thoughts continued upon a far darker trail as he found himself unable to stop from wondering if he ever would again have the simple hobbit pleasures of nature in it's quiet glory. He felt a hand grab his shoulder roughly "get ya up now half high, Dalmer don't like ta be kept waitin' ". Frodo looked blearily upon the face of yet another scruffy and unwashed looking member of Dalmer's gang, he wrinkled his nose in disgust 'do they never wash themselves' he wondered. He struggled to sit up and was yanked to his feet. He gasped with the pain of his foot and would have fallen from his pain and dizziness had not a small arm suddenly reached up to snake itself around his waist. He said a quick "thank you" to Arda and painfully reached to hug his princess in return. "Sir Frodo, I knew you'd come" she whispered. He looked her over quickly, a scratch upon her cheek but otherwise no sign of damage, he breathed a sigh of relief. The guard retreated a few steps and brought Frodo his crutch that Galen had made him several days ago. The surly man thrust it wordlessly to Frodo and gestured that they should follow him, they did. In just a few hobbled steps Frodo felt his breath coming in gasps, the sweat roll down his neck and back as he fought to suppress his pain. After a few moments of such walking he felt he would soon pass out, but luck was with him and just a few steps further brought them to their destination. 

Dalmer stood, his back to them, pouring over a map and turned to speak as they approached.

"I finally found a use fer you half high, somethin' other than what what my brother desires yer for anyway...I hear yer the one whose been settin' the fuses. " Frodo swayed, clutching desperately at the wall on one side and the crutch on his other and he glared at the man before him. Dalmer, seeing the slow anger and resistance build with in the hobbit, snaked out his hand and caught Rosetta in a bone crushing hug as he dragged her into his embrace. He slapped a big beefy hand upon her delicate white face "no funny stuff...I mean it, or yer little friend shall suffer for yer lack of 'cooperation' ". Frodo paled and did his best to wipe his face free of his seething anger. The man grinned "yes, yes that's it...much better"...he released Rosetta, who flew to Frodo's side and clung to his good leg. "What is my task Dalmer....I shall do it and return to the cavern, someone has to ensure that you've kept to your word and feed the children." he said firmly. Dalmer smirked "ye'll do as yer told, on my terms half high, not yers...or I may just have ta spend some time showing her majesty here around the establishment" he said as he winked at Rosetta. Frodo looked puzzled and Dalmer laughed "has no one told ya then, that we are ta keep the prisoners of the King....no matter their making". A little tremor seemed to shake the ground beneath the hobbits feet and he looked up in panic. Loud and grunting, snarling noises could be heard and Frodo watched in horror as the guards paraded three very large and ferocious orcs through the dusty shadows of the doorway. Frodo shrunk back, his eyes wide in terror, heart starting to beat an uneven rhythm to keep pace with his terror. He was flooded with images of Cirith Ungol and the tower, he began to breath rapidly finding his breaths becoming more shallow as he became more dizzy. "I see yer familiar with these 'men' Frodo...if ye'd like to not be too familiar with a gang of Orcs, just thirsten for revenge on the ringbearer....then ye'll do all that I ask...and then some" he sneered, his hard eyes a force to be feared. Frodo felt his world become very small, dark and confusing as his senses rebelled and he collapsed to the arms of the nearby guard. His last memory was of the stench of men, the feel of the ground and the terror of torments he'd tried so hard to forget.

  
  
  



	25. chapter 25: Recalling

Faces of War

Chapter 25: Recalling

Disclaimer: The Characters and some of the settings of this story are the work of J.R.R. Tolkien....a true author and muse of exceptional talent. I am gaining nothing of value from my endeavors....save the fun and fantasy of exploring the world of words with some of my favorite people, hobbits, dwarves and an occasional elf....enjoy!

ShireBaggins: Frodo is reduced to hobbling with a crutch...something I myself am also doing at the moment...life and literature coexisting once more....his work is generally more sedentary than the tasks given to the others...but heh, these are bad guys....their expectations are all around unreasonable don't you think? The Orcs may just surprise you!

endymion2: Back a couple of chapters ago I mentioned that Frodo had put his childhood hours of watching Merry and Pippin get into mischief to use as he discerned how to make explosives from spying on Gandalf with his cousins...Frodo had been given the task in the mines....before Anborn came along...of helping to build the explosives... which he "bartered" in exchange for better rations for the children. Yes, the Orcs are here...there will be more Orcs than elves actually...well at least "speaking" elves....I hope they will actually act a balance of another sort!

ClaudiaofBree: I think that Gandalf's prophecy( early chapter) of "allowing Mr. Baggins to aid himself in some way" will be a part of the picture....of course he will have help...ultimately...from some expected and some unexpected sources! Frodo is not the only one who gets rescued here.....

Elwen: Frodo is busy redefining what it means to be "put through the mill"....but then again the Valar did choose him for a reason!

The hardness of the cavern floor gave way to the fallen form of the ringbearer and in seconds Rosetta had clambered from the side of the ruffian restraining her to be at the side of her Frodo. Her soft and gentle fingers wound themselves in and amongst his filthy curls as she pleaded "Wake up Sir Frodo, wake up". Frodo fought his way to wakefulness once more and opened his eyes to the relieved smile of the child beside him. "Tis all right Princess...just a moment of dizziness...here" he gasped, "help me up then". Rosetta looked worried but wrapped her tiny arm about his waist and tried to pull him up. The guard standing nearest, with a look of assent from Dalmer, stepped forward to help and yanked the Hobbit roughly to his feet. Frodo stood, panting from his effort to work through his pain and fear, and glared at the men about him. He pulled Rosetta closer to him as he looked to the doorway and was reminded of the reason for his fear.

Frodo's mouth went suddenly dry and he felt his slender hands tremble as he held to the shoulders of the princess. Dalmer watched his response with something akin to pleasure, 'this'll do it' he thought. The footsteps drew nearer and Frodo shuddered, there was no mistaking the solid, unforgiving and angry footsteps of Orcs. He had to swallow his panic, he would not allow Dalmer to see his discomfort....not at any cost. He took a deep breath and softly, reassuringly, gave a gentle squeeze to Rosetta's shoulders. "I am bigger than this....I have always been bigger than this" he said under his breath.

A moment later, three dark colored, large and scantily glad Orcs came into view as they were pushed before the men who were their guards. They wore chains upon their ankles and about their necks were welded metal collars, each with a fastening that could be chained to secure and further control it's wearer. The largest of the three walked with arms bent and it's humped and twisted back gave the impression that somewhere in his life he had himself faced the torture of the rack which had been his charge to operate. His hair, black and streaked with grey, hung in greasy strands on the sides of his face while the back was tied into a quick que with a leather thong. His yellowed eyes reflected his hatred and anger, Frodo felt his unease grow, there was in the pit of his stomach a warning signal....this orc felt familiar to him. The second prisoner stood not as tall as the first, but far straighter. His skin was cris crossed with a series of fine scars and welts upon a torso that rippled with it's prideful muscles and sustaining hatred. It's face was pitted and scarred with one red rimmed eye permantly cast down from a heinous wound which would no longer allow it to work fully. It's fangs were yellowed and his cavernous mouth gaped open as it breathed heavily and drool slowly ran from the corners of it's blackened lips. It was the gaze of the third orc that took Frodo's attention. The third orc was smaller, much thinner and not nearly as broad and muscled as the other two. His stance was less threatening, his dark skin was the color of well worn cherry and was marked with a series of black tatoos that ran from his shoulders and down his back. Frodo was drawn to the posture and stance of this one, he seemed to be in some way inferior to the others and seemed to be wary of his actions compared to his companions. His hair, also black and dirty, had a fullness, a health and a sheen that brought to mind not ugliness but beauty. The notion of beauty residing in an orc was so foreign to Frodo that he nearly smiled. The first orc caught the essence of the hobbit's grin and growled his displeasure. Dalmer laughed "I can see yer all gonna get on jest fine together....let me introduce you to yer new companions Half High....these here are what's left of a band of marauding orcs that was found pillaging Villages ta the west ...The bent one goes by Durzak, the scarred one by Muglaz and this is their friend....his name is Qurag." . The orcs eyed Frodo with contempt, loathing and hatred , their beady eyes sizing him up and making him wish he could hide from their scrutiny. Dalmer walked to the biggest orc, Durak and with the point of his sword urged him to move closer to the ringbearer.

Frodo shrank back in involuntary terror, the rasping breath and foul stench of the Orc's body begged to bring forth a flood of memories. He set his lips in a hard line and focused his thoughts on the events before him 'I am stronger now, I can be bigger than this' he said to himself. Dalmer watched the expressions of fear, anger and pride move in fleeting patterns across the ringbearer's face and he smirked "this here's the ringbearer boys....he's the one that killed yer master and took all yer life from ye...ye might say he's the reason yer where are right now." Rosetta shrunk closer to Frodo as the second Orc began to gnash his teeth and clench and unclench his fists as he rocked his massive body from side to side. Frodo wrapped his arms about Rosetta, determined to keep her safe, he felt her tremble in his arms. Dalmer walked then to where Frodo stood and leaning next to him whispered "They are your new room mates half high, and while yer doing as I say....they'll be kept ta one side 'o the cave and chained ta the walls....and yer to be kept on this side" he gestured to where they stood "but I will warn ya only once....the chains these fellas wear may jest be harder ta find one morning if I see yer not doin' yer share."

Frodo sighed heavily and shook his head "what do you wish from me Dalmer? I will not allow harm to come to the children, you need not threaten me to get what you desire...you can see that I will cooperate to ensure their safety." he said steadily, brows furrowed in worry as he wondered what game his captor was trying now to engage him in. Dalmer nodded "Aye, I know you'll do all ya can to keep them alive....but it's yer life I'm needed too halfling....none 'o this deciding ta take a long journey , none 'o this choice of the vanished houses of Numenor...or ye'll find yer Princess here" he reached a calloused and filthy hand to fondle Rosetta curls as he bent down and stared right into Frodo's bright blue eyes "sharin' in all yer 'pleasant dreams' about yer experiences at the hands of their kin" he laughed as he gestured to the Orcs across the room. Frodo felt a vast pit of hatred and fear open in his mind, he fought the pull of foul memories and past darkness, knowing that he'd need to keep his wits about him. He clenched his eyes closed but a moment as he fought off his fear and closed his mind to the terrors he'd lived through, he vowed he would only think of the future, of the children. He put all his energy into his strength of will, he fought back his demons and opened his mind only to the possibilities of the future. He opened his eyes, looked down to the bright orbs gazing up at him from their nest of blond curls and turned his gaze to the hard grey of Dalmer's soulless eyes. "You have my word, I'll not give further thought to the Valar's gift, but in turn you must give me some assurances." Dalmer stood up tall, put his hands on his hips and laughed out loud "What gives you the right to barter? I am in no mood to make deals until I see what you can produce..." he turned and looked at the three Orcs across the way and then back to the determined Hobbit before him "You will work together, you will clear these back tunnels....together...and until I see that you can do this, there'll be no deals Halfling, nor any food until I am satisfied...that goes for you and the rest of the children..." Dalmer departed with the sound of his evil laugh echoing from the walls of the ever narrowing tunnels.

Frodo was left with a trembling child in his arms, five of Dalmer's guards and three orcs glaring and grinding their teeth just feet from where he stood. He took a deep breath and readied himself for the arduous tasks ahead, hoping he'd find a way to remain strong enough to keep to his feet for a just a few more days. He felt the sweat upon his brow and knew his fever to be slowly building, with a moan he positioned his crutch and followed the guards to the spot where he was to assemble the fuses and explosives needed for his Princess to blow the back tunnels. 

They worked all that day, Frodo painstakingly pouring the explosive powders into a variety of canisters, twisting and attaching the fuses and making trailers to attach the fuses to. As each canister was finished then the guards would tell Rosetta which tunnel to set it to and he and the Princess would huddle together to avoid being hit by the spray of rocks as the debris of the cave slowly rained down upon them. Then the Orcs would, with their massive muscles and grunting anger, move the rocks as Frodo and Rosetta readied the next blast site. It was slow work and Frodo found there was a balance to be sought, a bigger blast meant more damage....but less control, while a series of smaller blasts took longer to clear but could be more easily directed. Several times Dalmer came back to inspect the progress, his face an impassive picture of what his heart desired, he would grunt his approval and they would continue. 

As the day drew to it's close, Frodo, nearing the end of his reserve of strength, watched as Dalmer's face showed his displeasure at last "this 'tis too slow....I know there is more gold back there...ye'll have ta use a greater charge in the next few blasts". He barked at his men. Frodo, who'd been quietly keeping Rosetta near to him as he filled the next round of canisters said boldly "the walls will not hold if we increase the blast, if you want the tunnels to be shaped and not destroyed, you'll have to use smaller and more frequent charges." The tunnel was silent as Dalmer stalked over to where Frodo sat propped against the wall preparing to fill his next canister, the Orcs, sweating and panting from their exertion stopped their lifting to observe the interaction between the man and the halfling. Dalmer glared but a moment at the pale form beside him then bending swiftly he clutched Frodo about the neck and lifted him, pressing him back against the jagged wall of the tunnel "ye'll do as I say halfling....or ye'll work all night" he barked as he threw Frodo back against the wall. Frodo's head impacted with the tunnel wall and left his vision swimming with bright flashes of light specks. He shook his head and watched in dismay as Dalmer stomped from the tunnel. The Orcs watched in silence, waiting to see what their next task would be.

He sighed heavily as the guards gestured for him to keep working and against his better judgement he filled the next canister with a greater amount of powder and he showed Rosetta where to place it in the tiniest crevice in the back reaches of the tunnel. He stood tiredly and began to hobble out from the tunnel...urging Rosetta to run before him. His crutch slipped and he nearly fell in his haste to stand up again. He groaned as his infected leg came in contact with the ground but he forced himself to keep moving and he urged his Princess forward. Rosetta had just turned the corner and run from the tunnel opening when Frodo saw the orange flash and heard the sizzle of the fuse as it was lit. He watched as it raced along and he struggled to exit the tunnel, but his injuries and fever were proving too much and he felt himself gasping for air as he tried to hurry his awkward gait. 'I'll never make it' he found himself thinking as he was suddenly aware of a crushing arm about him and the stench of unwashed hides as he was propelled down the length of the tunnel. They rounded the corner and he felt himself thrown into a heap of sweaty arms, unwashed skin and tightened muscles as a loud explosion filled the air and the world about him turned grey.

When the dust cleared and the tunnel was quiet, save for the sound of coughing and the random skitter of falling gravel, he opened his eyes to find that he was in a tangle of Orc arms and legs and looked up to find jagged teeth and scarred skin growling at him. He trembled inside, but held to his vow and forced himself to look for Rosetta "Princess...where are you? Are you hurt?" he asked, his fear for her making his voice sound wavering and weak. In seconds a large dark arm was raised and Rosetta popped up, seated upon the Orc known as Qurog....she, of all things, had a smile upon her face "that tickles " she exclaimed as she pushed the Orc's long hair from her face. Frodo watched in amazement as the smaller Orc gently removed his hair and carefully unrolled himself from her. "Sorry Miss" he said softly, his voice a mere whisper that only Frodo with his senses heightened from his trials with the ring, could hear with any clarity. Princess giggled, for she had seen the look of apology in the Orc's eyes, even if she hadn't heard the words, "that's all right silly, now let's get Sir Frodo up from this mess." Frodo stared in amazement as the smallest Orc pushed his way through the other two and helped him to his feet. He tried to mutter his thanks but no words would come and with a brief exchange of eye contact, the moment for thanks was gone. The other two Orcs spoke loudly and harshly in their black speech and it was apparent to Frodo that the smallest Orc, Qurag, was being chastised.

The guards forced them apart and set the Orcs to clearing the larger stones while Frodo and Rosetta were told to clear the smaller stones. Dalmer appeared suddenly as Frodo was struggling to lift a stone, the man watched as Frodo, red faced from his struggles finally heaved the stone over the edge into the waiting handcart. He clapped the hobbit upon the back in congratulations, nearly knocking the exhausted hobbit to the ground in his enthusiasm. "Well done, for this you shall have food and water, as will your friends....you shall even have some hours to sleep! I can see that my idea to increase the charges will work and we shall make even more progress in the morning." Frodo groaned his fatigue as he began to hobble behind Dalmer, with Rosetta there to aid him they made it back to the front and he collapsed upon the ground. The blond haired waif snuggled against her Frodo and pulled his head into her lap stroked his cheek anxiously "Sir Frodo, you need Kylos and Toleman to bring you your medicine....". she whispered. He looked up at her, from where his head was cradled "shh child, don't go making troubles...I will be fine for another day or two with out it..." he gasped, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open, he was so very tired, he couldn't remember ever feeling more tired in his whole life 'not even Mordor sapped my strength like this' he thought as he began to drift in his feverish sleep. 

In moments he was shaken awake by a guard who brought him a stale hunk of bread, a bowl of thin broth and a cup of water. He struggled to sit up and watched as Rosetta had her share then began to eat himself. As he tore off a chunk of the bread he watched the Orcs chained across from him. The smaller one watched Rosetta with a thoughtful look upon his face and other two stared the whole time at him. He grew uneasy as they watched him eat and then it slowly dawned on him that they had been given no food. He gestured to one of the guards to come forward "Why have they been given no food?" he asked looking towards the Orcs. The guard snorted "them? Why they'll eat when we catches a deer or some other game....they only eat every three days or so...don't worry yerself over them animals" the guard laughed as he stood up and moved away. Frodo, unable to forget the kindness shown to him earlier, and feeling uneasy with the stares being sent his way got up from his spot and brought his bread and broth to the area before them and signaled for Rosetta to bring his water as well. He knelt down and offered them to the smaller one, the one who'd spoken earlier "here, please take some food, you will need strength for tomorrow's labors" he pleaded gently as he looked into the eyes of the Orc known as Qurag.

Qurag, his dark brown eyes looking thoughtfully upon the food nodded his thanks and Frodo went back to his seat on the opposite wall. He pulled a weary Rosetta to him and set her head upon his lap. As he fell asleep his thoughts were of his Princess and the way she'd smiled as Qurag's hair had tickled her face...and of the look that had been upon the Orc's face, a look of sadness and loss.


	26. chapter 26: Wondering

Faces of War

Chapter 26: Wondering

Disclaimer: I will never be the writer and "captor" of imagination the RR Tolkien is, was and forever shall be....I am however, having lots of fun!

Shire Baggins: I have re-written this story and have plans...boy do I have plans...let's hope the come to fruition! Yes. I was fascinated by the notion that War, in it's most evil and ugly personna effects people on all/both sides...so yes, there will be more on Qurag....some based on my 7 year olds' simple question ..."where do all the orcs come from Mommy?"....a very Middle Earth birds and the bees discussion quickly ensued....and then my story took another turn....hope you like it! Yes, Frodo seemingly should be dead....I am a firm believer in the maximum "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" and our little Hobbit is heading for Herculean status by now....

endymion2: Your questions will be answered in this chapter....In many ways the Orcs...at least some of them were also "victims" in this war...in the same way that the children...and potentially the Hobbits of the Shire could have been...but for luck and some "scouring of the Shire" action in Book Cannon anyway....Frodo's blood poisoning will be addressed for a brief time in this chapter but will rear it's ugly head ( or should I say cellular defenses?) In later chapters.

Iorhael: We shall see what bond is forced between Orc and Hobbit in future chapters....right now you'll see that even Frodo is surprised by the "humanity" of a race that he held as no better than animals....and given his experiences....who can blame him?

It was hot, a stuffy fetid sort of heat that held him down and kept his limbs prisoner. He parted his lips, gasping for air, straining to tilt his head, to bring the relief of air to his tight and pain filled lungs. He tried to pull his scattered thoughts and images of pain into one cohesive word, he sought to reach out, to break through his fevered dreams and pain filled breaths, but he could not. The night wore on, moments meant to be respite turned to torture as Frodo sunk further into his fevered hell. The gradually deepening slumber brought him no relief from his exhaustion and he felt his breathes become more labored, his heart begin to slow and in the deep recesses of his mind he was afraid.

Rosetta, who had curled herself comfortably in the crook of Frodo's arm, brushed sleepily at a drop of water tricking down her face, she made a soft 'umpf' sound, annoyed at the interruption in her sleep. She sought to find her place of comfort once more only to be distracted by the feel of water upon her again, and as she came slowly to a different level of awareness she noticed suddenly how hot she felt, how sticky and uncomfortable she was as she snuggled into Frodo's arms. 'So hot' she thought vaguely, then she opened her eyes and looked up to see that the heat she'd felt was coming from her Sir Frodo. She sat up suddenly, pulling his arms from her and reached to his sweat drenched face and curls "Sir Frodo" she whispered urgently, and again "Frodo" she said louder as she shook him this time. He made no move, eyes closed, face pale and breathes coming in labored gasps, he made no move to awaken. She got to her knees and looked wildly about her, she needed to get help, but how? and where? She tried once more to shake the motionless body beside her and began to cry tears of desperation even as her attention was drawn to the still form of the Orcs across from her. 

The smaller one, Qurag, was watching her from his huddled position by the wall. He stared without blinking and saw as the little human child began to cry. He looked to his companions, they slept, their hulking bodies thrust back against the wall, their chains clenched in their fists even as they grunted and snorted in their heavy sleep. He looked to the flask on Durzak's hip and then to the now sobbing human child, the one with hair the color of the sun. He waited, for he knew she would have to come to him.

Rosetta couldn't control her tears any longer, she felt her body shake with the force of her crying and took deep breaths to try to calm herself. "Help" she whispered, staring at the pale face of the sick Hobbit "please won't somebody help?" she pleaded. She looked up from her tearful perusal of Frodo's thin and frail sculptured features to see Qurag gesture to her. She stared a moment, 'yes' she thought 'he will help' she reasoned with her child's trusting spirit, and she left Frodo's side in answer to his beckoning. She came within a few feet and got down on her hands and knees to crawl forward, slowly she came closer until his hand signaled 'stop' . "Little one" the Orc whispered, his voice deep and gravelly sounding but gentle in it's slow cadence "Ringbearer, he must drink...must drink this". He said as he handed a foul smelling skin to her tiny hand. She stared at the flask and then to the brown eyes of the smallest Orc "Medicine?" she questioned. Qurag nodded slowly and replied "Orc draught, very strong, not much". She nodded in reply and turned to go but stopped as he reached a hand tentatively towards her, she turned and waited for his words. "He not like, will fight, must drink to live." Qurag said softly. She nodded once more and her lips trembled with her waiting tears as one slipped down her dirt streaked face. Qurag reached to wipe the tear from her face "be strong, help friend" he said as he waved her away. She nodded and taking his massive calloused hand, kissed it and said "thank you...I knew you would help us." and she scrambled to her feet and ran quickly across the tunnel to where Frodo was lying.

Qurag watched motionless as the little human child took the Hobbit's head and pulled it to her lap, he felt a sadness in him as he saw the tenderness with which she stroked his curls and kissed his forehead. She took the top from the skin and looked once more to him for approval, he nodded once and mouthed the words 'drink now' and watched as with her trembling hand she opened the chapped lips and poured the draught with tentative precision. A small quantity of the foul brown and sticky liquid ran down the corner of his chin to drip to his shoulder and she tried once more to open his mouth and get some in. The Orc smiled to himself, he could see from the tremors of the body in her lap that this time she'd been more successful. He tensed and waited to see what would happen. 

The heat was holding him down, crushing him under it's weight, he tried to move and struggled to breath as his mind began to weave images filled with pain and fire. He felt hands holding him, claws ripping and tearing as he was laid naked before their leering gaze. He flailed wildly, tried to crawl away only to be yanked back to the sound of their raucous laughter. It was so hot, the sweat poured from him and he looked up in terror to see the burning brand held before him. They roughly grasped his head and turned it sideways so abruptly he felt he must surely die from the snapping of his neck, but they suddenly stopped. The smell of rotted meat and unwashed filth encrusted skin was upon him and he was feeling pain, unbearable pain and smelling his own flesh sizzle as he screamed. His scream brought no relief as they yanked his curls to further open his mouth and poured in the liquid fire, the thick brown, foul tasting draught that burned even as the brand had burned his body on the outside, it's fluid wove a molten path down a throat to damaged to even scream any longer. 

Rosetta had just placed the skin down when Frodo began to thrash and flail his arms wildly, whimpering and gasping as his eyes flew open and stared to her with a look of glazed misery and frantic despair. She tried to hug him, to sooth away his nightmare, for surely she thought, this must be a bad dream he is awaking from? He seemed to be all arms and flailing limbs as he struggled weakly to free himself from his reawakened moments of terror, his eyes open and searching about him for a freedom he would not find.

Qurag watched with pity from his seat against the far wall, he knew the draught to be too strong, but knew also the restorative power of this noxious drink and hoped the human child had not given too much. He looked to still sleeping forms of his companions and hoped the scene before him would not wake them from their slumbers. 

Frodo continued to moan and thrash his arms about wildly in ever slower and less frantic movements as the shock wore off. His eyes remained fixed and open, staring into nothingness, slowly changing from fever bright to stuporous, eyes now clouded with pain of a different sort. Rosetta hugged him to her and ran her hands through his dank curls as she tried to sing softly to him the songs he'd gifted to her only days before, songs of brave deeds and heroic moments in time, songs to chase the dread of evil and fear of the unknown away. With his body reduced to only occasional tremors and a shudder or two, Frodo's breathing became slowly more deep and less labored until at long last he was eased into a more restful state. Rosetta took her tiny fingers and gently pulled down the pale eyelids, kissing each one as she sidled up to him and wrapped his arms about her to find a few minutes of comfort she whispered "I'm sorry Sir Frodo....I didn't want to make bad dreams.... only to make things better" she said softly as she hugged his arms to her and cried herself back to sleep.

Qurag watched with the trace of a sad smile upon his black lips, the yellow haired one brought to him a sensation of pain and longing, a desire to have the company of one who could not be forced from his side. His mind formed quickly bidden images of such moments, he saw himself with a young smiling figure, pictured a time of such closeness and he shut his eyes needing to shut away his memories, needing to forget the Orc creatures of his past. 'I not remember' he thought in his other speech, the one his birthing creature gave him 'I not want remember little Ashrig' he sighed and frowned 'not remember' he told himself 'hurt go away'. He shut his eyes and tried to cover his pain in the silence of his sleep.

Frodo woke slowly, feeling his body responding to his aching reminder of wakefulness with trepidation. He felt uneasy, something was changed, something had happened in the night that he had no conscious memory of. He opened his eyes and wrapped his arm more securely about the Princess, but that was not it he reasoned, for she was in his arms where she'd been as he'd fallen asleep. He felt her respond to his change in position and he lifted his head to look about him a little more, still troubled by the sense that something was different. His eyes and his mind came to the twin realizations in the same instant, his leg was no longer the center of his pain and he saw the reason why. The skin, the unmistakable drinking skin of the Orc concoction he'd been forced to consume in the tower, it lay right before him. He suddenly noticed a foul taste in his mouth and as his hand moved to his lips he felt the sticky residue. The distant sound of voices at the entrance of the tunnel signaled that their work dsy was about to begin. He struggled to sit upright, his motions jarring awake a softly whining Rosetta and he stared at the Orcs across the tunnel. 

Qurag's brown eyes stared back at him, eyes that looked first to the face of the Hobbit, then to the skin beside him and Frodo knew what had happened. He gently shook Rosetta awake "Princess, time to rise poppet...we've more work today....come now, awaken little one." he whispered. She sat up and rubbed her eyes sleepily and yawned, then as she sat up she turned to pat his cheek "you are better....we knew you would be" she said looking at Quarag, "didn't we?" she asked the Orc with a smile. Qurag smiled quickly, with one half of his wide black lips, a fleeting motion that served to show the sharpened fang like appearance of his teeth and motioned that she should bring the skin back to him before the others woke up. Rosetta carefully picked up the skin and brought it to the Orc chained to the wall across from her, she handed it to him with a gentle smile and scampered back to sit next to Frodo. 

Frodo was examining his leg, the skin was still warm and streaks of infection clearly showed under the fairness of his leg, but it no longer throbbed and he felt nearly fever free for the first time in days. "Thank you Qurag...you have brought me great relief." he said quietly. Qurag nodded and replied " feel good now, few days maybe, not all gone hurt." Frodo nodded, he could still feel the burning in his throat and stomach from the draught, his stomach a bit unsettled from the strength of their medicine, but he was as free from pain as he had been in a long time and he was grateful. "Thank you my friend, for now I can use my strength to help the children" he said quietly. He sighed and wondered why an Orc, one of those who had lost the most from the destruction of the ring, would choose to help him. Before he could in fact pose that question, the prodding hands and feet of the returning guards signaled the beginning of their labors. With one last nod in Qurag's direction, Frodo helped Rosetta to her feet and followed the gestures of the guards as they were led from their place of rest. 

As they walked they were each handed a hunk of bread, Frodo watched as Rosetta ate hers hungrily and then taking half for later he handed the other half to her as well. As he was about place the half in his pocket to give her at another time he heard a voice behind him "need eat, if want to help". Frodo looked back over his shoulder to see that Qurag was in the front of the Orc line this morning. He looked to the countenance of his snarling companions and wondered if it would not bring trouble of sorts to the smallest Orc for him to speak back. He just nodded silently and began mechanically to eat the tasteless bread in his hand.

Their second day of blasting brought better results, more stone was cleared and Dalmer fairly beamed as one of the guards found the evidence of a new vein of gold near the newest blasting site. Frodo found that while he still required the crutch, the painful throbbing of his leg was much reduced and he could better concentrate on the tasks at hand. After hours of building, setting and cleaning up after their explosives he and the Princess were covered with fine grey dust and their ears rang from the memory of the loud explosions. He tried to seek out the eyes of Qurag, who cast furtive glances his way, he badly wanted to communicate and know better the purpose behind the deeds of the previous night. Each time he began to speak the other Orcs would growl or gnash their teeth as they twisted their large heads or stomped their feet in warning. With each show of warning, his resolve deepened, he would find a way to speak with Qurag, he must.

With the evidence of the last blast, a piece of rock with gold within it, held in his hands Dalmer announced "ye done good, even these beastly Orcs" he tilted his head in their direction as he surveyed the dust covered and exhausted group of workers 'ye'll 'ave some reward as it were then." He gestured for the guards to bring the group back to their sleeping quarters where he chained Qurag to the wall and with his hands tight to Rosetta's shoulders said "the girl can come with me, she'll see her brother....maybe he'll stop his fightin' with me and get them orphans back ta some real work now...especially since we seem ta have a whole new area fer mining." Rosetta's face lit up with joy but she looked to Frodo for his assurance that all would be safe. 

He smiled at her gently and then looked squarely at Dalmer "I'll do no more work without her at my side, new mine or no Dalmer, without me and the explosives you'll see precious little of the gold." he said strongly. Dalmer's smile faded, he made as if to step toward the steadfast Hobbit, but thought better of it and he sneered in contempt "seems we're needed each other right about now Halfling eh? Not ta worry, I'm not done mining yet so safe she'll be." Frodo nodded and sighed, relieved to have faced down the ruffian with no more trouble arising for the children. Dalmer looked to one of the guards "Kennon, Thad and Medal have brought back a few buck from their hunts....take these two with ya and bring 'em back some supper....Hollin, you stay here with them" he said pointing to Frodo and Qurag. 

Hollin took up his post near to the front of the tunnel as Dalmer and the other guard left with the Orcs chained before them. For a moment all was silent, the stillness of the cave broken only by the occasional drip drip of trickling groundwater nearby. Frodo began to sit down when a harsh, yet quiet voice said "come, speak now." He looked to where Qurag was chained to the wall and then to the back of the guard at the entrance and shifted his position so he could be closer to the Orc. "How leg?" Qurag grunted. Frodo ran his hand along the tattered remnants of the dressing upon his wounded foot "still pains me, but it is no longer raging with infection....thank you....I know, I know you risked a lot to help me." 

Qurag grunted a sound which could have been a yes or a no and then said "did for sun haired child". Frodo leaned back against the hard surety of the cavern wall and closed his eyes a moment and smiled "yes" he said wistfully as he thought of the way his Princess hwarmed his own heart " she does have that effect on one doesn't she?" He turned his head to look more fully at the smaller Orc "why do you want to help her?" Qurag's face looked pained as he replied "human child like creature Orc, like Ashrig....creature Orc of my blood.". Frodo was struck by the realization that it had never occurred to him to think that Orcs might feel connections to others of their race. He felt a tinge of guilt, it was so easy to think of them all as animals, as creatures bent only upon causing pain, working to follow the orders of their master. He had a sudden thought "Ashrig...she was related to you then?" he said quietly, trying to further his notions of Orcs and relationships. Qurag grunted "not know word" he said with a brief shake of his head.

Frodo tried again "Ashrig was a Orc Creature that shared your blood, a....family member perhaps?" Qurag did not know the word family, but he sensed that the halfling was trying to understand so he tried with his words to explain "Orc creature Snaga....one who ...." at a loss for words he gestured to show a large belly. Frodo frowned a moment in confusion but then his face lit up as he understood "your mother" he said softly. Qurag grunted his assent " Orc Creature Ashrig from same....mot...mother" he said trying out the strange new word with difficulty. Frodo looked pleased with his new found knowledge and asked "your sister then, Ashrig....where is she?" he asked gently. Qurag frowned, his eyes took on a hard and angry look "Men kill...men kill when moth...mother of Qurag try return to people." Frodo was beginning to understand and he said in wonder "Snaga...your mother was an Orc slave....you were trying to bring her back...back from?" his mind sought his knowledge of Mordor's geography, the slave fields...."Neinnor...you are from the sea of Neinnor ...the slave fields...oh sweet Eru, do you not know that those lands have been freely given to the slaves now, King Elessar has given it to them...there was no need to bring your mother back to her people...Qurag, she...she would have been free had she stayed." Frodo said quietly, feeling a great swell of sadness.

Qurag did not understand all of the Halfling's words but he tried to reply "Orc mother...want own creatures...go to find them when Lugburz fall." Frodo leaned back against the cavern wall, suddenly weary with the weight of this new knowledge, he took a deep breath and asked "Where, where were you taking them to?" Qurag did not have the words to tell the name of the place, only the words his mother had taught him, described to him "Go river place, near white city...Orc Snagas taken from there by ship people". Frodo knew that Qurag was describing the fall of Osgiliath and the subsequent slaving that the Corsairs had helped Mordor engage in. He shook his head, saddened by the plight of Qurag....but he still felt a piece was missing, there was something else about Qurag that he needed to know. He looked quickly to the entrance of the tunnel, checking to be sure that he'd have a moment more to pursue his questions. He turned and looked the Orc full in the eye "Why were you at the Slave field? What purpose did you serve there?" Qurag growled under his breath and Frodo thought perhaps he'd overstepped his bounds and he instinctively pulled back a bit. 

Qurag replied "Orc making camp, Qurag was to make more Orcs." Frodo was a little abashed at the notion of such activity and he looked to Qurag for clarification "You were making....breeding orcs with the Snagas?" Qurag nodded, some pride evident in the way he sat up taller and patted his chest "Qurag good for making Orcs....make ones that ..." He searched for a moment until he found a word he thought the halfling would understand "make ones with good head...ones wanted by the master". Frodo was taken aback by this concept, but it was apparent that Sauron had been building the ranks of Mordor with more than the standard animalistically cruel beast he'd thought Orcs to be. He looked a moment at Qurag, noting the trimmer, more compact body shape, smaller and more dexterous hands, wiser countenance and knew that Sauron had had plans to make his own master race of mixed breed Orc Creatures, creatures that he would hone and build to his satisfaction taking only the best of all races to breed with his foul creations. 

He shuddered at the thought of this travesty of racial normalcy, was sickened by the image of a world built systematically to suit the needs of one. He wanted more than anything to cease his conversation, to pretend perhaps he'd never opened this door of communication, but he knew that all knowledge he gleaned could only be for a reason, his trial at the hands of the Valar had taught him to discount no knowledge, no matter how insignificant it may first seem. He continued with a few more whispered questions "how many female Snagas were there with you? Were they all Snaga from other lands?" Qurag thought a moment, he had no word to describe numbers, but he tried in his own terms "many camps full....some Snaga full Orc, most Snaga come other lands.....not all Snaga worthy" he finished slowly. Qurag sensed that somehow this last statement would bring more words from the halfling and he was not wrong in his assessment.

Frodo shook his head, not wanting to understand Qurag's last words. 'Please' he thought to himself 'I cannot bear the answer to this question....but I must ask it'. He swallowed slowly and licked his lips as he searched for just the right way to phrase the question "What makes a Snaga 'worthy' and what happens if they are deemed 'not worthy'?". Qurag heard the sound of clanking chains in the distance, he answered quickly "Snaga must be mother in three moons or fed to camps...Snaga who have little Orc given much, mother Snagas held high." Frodo felt bile rise in his throat, this couldn't be true....these slave women had three months...then...well he couldn't bring himself to continue with these questions but felt he had to ask one more. He looked furtively to the entrance, heard the voices of the guards as they herded the other Orcs "Durzak and the other one...they are ...well, what ...how did you come to be with them?" Qurag tilted his head to one side, not sure how to describe their purpose "they keep Qurag safe, keep Qurag strong to make Orcs." 'Bodyguards' Frodo thought to himself, loosely translated, but at least I believe that is his meaning. He looked upon Qurag with a new perspective, the thought that this being was doing what he felt best, sometimes clearly by being at odds with what he was told, gave him hope. If he got away from here, if he made it out with the children, it was clear that this post ring world would require some delicate handling. He wondered a moment if perhaps Qurag was part of the reason the Valar had set this latest trial upon him. Frodo did not have the energy for such suppositions, his mind was saddened by his conversation with the Orc and he felt he could bear no more thoughts filled with such shadows. He quickly thanked Qurag once more and moved quietly away from him, hoping to appear non-communicative as the others entered the tunnel entrance.

He watched as Qurag nodded briefly to him in response and then turned to the Larger Orc handlers who now clearly acted in deference to the smaller Orc, giving him the first choice of deer parts as they ripped their meal from the carcass before them. Frodo watched for only a moment before his eyes and nose could take no more and he rolled over to face the wall, the sound of their gnashing teeth and the smell of fresh blood forming images in his mind that he was thankful his Princess was not here to witness. 


	27. Chapter 27: Foreboding

Faces of War

Chapter 27: Foreboding

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of JRR Tolkien, I am in dept to his imagination...

Shire Baggins: I was intrigued with the fact that there were no female Orcs to be seen either in movie or book...there had to be a way for Orcs to be created....so my idea of a "breeding camp" was born ( no pun intended). Anborn is soon to appear as he and Dalmer plan to meet with Aragorn.....

Endymion2: Yes "Snaga" means slave...and Qurag never revers to the one who bore him in any other fashion...all females in the camp at the sea of Niennor were referred to by their title or work designation...."Snaga". There will be more troubles for all involved....orphans, Frodo, rescuer's and villians....

Sam raised a tired hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, he looked to Gimli seated next to him and wondered yet again how the Dwarf could stand the feel of so much hair upon his face in such heat. He twisted in his seat to turn and see Merry and Pippin in the cart behind them. The Elves had secreted themselves discreetly along the trail, all slowly making their way back to the Quarry. Sam had explained to Legolas that their best chance of coming across a friendly guard would be to meet up with him on a patrol on the perimeter of the camp, or perhaps on one of the hunting forays that sustained them. They had thought it best to look as if they were going about their provisioning rounds, and were making no attempt to be secretive He looked at the tall trees lining the trail and idly wondered what game was to be had this far up in the mountain passes.

They traveled along the steady clop clop of the ponies hooves and the creak of the wheels the only sounds to keep Sam's thoughts company. His mind was filled with the images of the past days, hot days of travel and nights of worry without end. 'Oh Master hold on to yer hope...hold on ta the knowing of all ya done and all there is yet ta do...hold on to yer visions Mr. Frodo, not just those sent ta ya by the Valar....hold on Mr. Frodo, hold on' he hung his head a bit and caressed his worried brow. Gimli took notice of Sam's movement " All right there Master Gamgee? If it's worrin' your doin ye'll do yourself no good...I know the Elf has a trick or two ta smoke out these villains." Sam frowned and sighed "yes sir Mr. Gimli, but worrin 'tis all I can do and so it's worrin' I am until I got my arms about him once more" he said stoutly.

Sam was tired, not just in body but in mind and spirit. The days of relentless worry wove their way to their exhausting conclusion as nights filled with vivid dreams and fretful nightmares. His nightmares were vague, unsettling and always on the edge of his rest. He thought back to the past few nights of sleep, now the nightmares had been joined by flashes of images that he felt surely must be his imagination and his worries for Frodo coming together. How else could he explain what pictures filled his nighttime senses in random images and flashing sensations of fear and pain? He felt he'd "seen" in his sleep visions of Frodo as he was now, right now....Frodo hobbling through a dank tunnel, Frodo lying sick and fevered, Frodo comforting a blond haired girl. He'd tried to mention his images to Merry, but had felt himself and his worries dismissed with a curt "we're all worried about Frodo, not surprising you'd have nightmares Sam." After that he'd not tried again to speak of his images, not wanting to add to the worries of the others. He sighed and looked to bend in the road ahead, it figured to be another league or two to the quarry, he was impatient with the pace of the carts but knew Legolas' notions of appearing as if they were on regular business to be a good one. He heard the distant sound of hoofbeats, coming closer they were. 'Quite a clip they're movin' at' he thought.

Around the narrow bend of the cart trail came two of the guards from the quarry, small game hung from leather thongs hanging from their saddles. Gimli looked quickly to Sam "let me do the talking Master Gamgee" he said. Sam, wide eyed nodded but hissed back, "that taller one, 'e's the guard from the tunnel, the one who 'elped us." 

The men pulled their mounts to a halt beside the first cart, the shorter man eyed Gimli with disdain. "Our provisions are not in need now, back you go, we've gotten the supplies we ordered and the boss is doing some heavy blasting now, so off with ya, the boss isn't wanting any company that might get caught up in troubles from fallin' stone." The man scowled. 

Gimli looked to the rabbits hanging on the pommel of the man's saddle "Aye, perhaps yer not wanting provisions for the camp...but I can't take my mind from how tasty a bite of rabbit might be tonight 'eh fellows?" he asked turning to look to Merry and Pippin in the rear cart. Sam took the opportunity to hop from the cart and going to the back of the wagon gathered up a small flagon of Ale. He approached the taller guard and handed up the flagon saying "A brace 'o coney's would make us a fine meal....we'll take the four ya got there and get ya fellows something that tastes like heaven going down."

The taller guard turned to the shorter one "Mendal, that sounds like an offer we can't refuse" and started to climb down from his saddle . Mendal looked through narrowed eyes at the scene before him, the thought of Ale overcame his initial suspicion and he nodded "Aye Galen, we can use with a change from that piss we been drinking in the camp....make it quick.".

Galen undid the four rabbits from the saddle and followed Sam to the rear of the cart where Sam made busy moving tarps and rustling supplies to cover the sound of his whispers. "How is 'e?" he asked in a rush . Galen quickly answered "he's been moved with the girl to another tunnel, he's making explosives to help find more gold...." Sam opened his mouth as if to say something but Galen put a quick hand over his mouth and continued "he's sick, real sick with blood poisoning....we've almost got an escape tunnel cleared to the back of the cave...but he's not there to use it with us....I think Dalmer's getting ready to leave, I saw the men packing up and laying in travel gear...the children will be out in a day, maybe two.....but" his words were cut off by a shout from the other guard "hey Galen, get yerself moving will ya? Ye'd best not be startin' without me you sod." Galen cast a warning glance to Sam and poked his head out from behind the wagon " I'm selecting the best goods here Mendal, you want ta drink the good stuff or not?" Mendal muttered some oaths under his breath as Sam made an even bigger and louder show of moving items in the cart's back. 

Galen spoke quickly, knowing he had little time " I'm getting him and the girl back to the Children's cavern tonight, wait until tomorrow to come, be on the west ridge, behind the stand of pines....that's were we should be comin out." Sam's heart was in his throat as he nodded his thanks, not trusting himself to speak he handed four flagons of Ale to Galen. Galen walked to his horse and tossed Mendal a flagon "'ere ya go friend, one fer the road." he said and without a backwards glance they rode off.

When the men were out of sight Gimli whistled his signal and Legolas and the Elves gradually appeared from the shadows of the late afternoon forest. Sam related all of his conversation, and added his own thoughts "he said Mr. Frodo was sick, bad sick with blood poisoning...I think we gotta go to him now." Merry shook his head "I think we gotta trust this man, if he says wait....we wait, Sam, he knows what's happening in there." Sam shook his head "no Mr. Merry, there's a feelin' of unease with me about this....". Sam felt a hand clasp his shoulder and looked up into the grey eyes of Legolas "Sam, I feel his pain too my friend....yet your Frodo would be the first to tell us to do what would assure them all safety. If we move before this Galen is ready, we risk bringing harm to the children." Sam bit his lip and shook his head "aye, yer soundin' like Mr. Frodo 'tis true...but I'm not likin' it and that's a fact." Sam turned away from his friends and began to set up camp.

It was nearing the end of the day and Dalmer was growing agitated "yer not blastin' it strong enough halfling" he said as he grabbed Frodo roughly by the shoulder and spun him around to look at their latest attempt to clear stone from the gold vein."If yer wantin' ta be back with the others tonight...ye'd best be blastin' with more than this" Dalmer said looking with disgust at the moderately sized piles of rock about them. Frodo sighed, he was exhausted, they'd been on their feet since early morning and with only one break for gruel and water, even he was feeling the slow drain of energy that lack of food caused. He looked up to the enraged man "'tis not safe to blast with more than one cap...the walls won't take it." he said wearily. Dalmer's eyes glinted with greed and anger "ye'll blast three this time half high or ye'll not be gettin' back ta yer friends." Frodo heard an exclamation of dismay from Rosetta and he turned to look at her. Her face with covered with dust, a bruise or two was beginning to mar her pale complexion and her dress was tattered and filthy. She stared at him with such sadness and longing he felt his heart nearly break. He knew there'd be no possibility of escape from this side of the mine and he himself longed to be back where he could see Kylos and feel the warmth of the other children. He sighed and said "all right, but you must provide a longer fuse for these, we shall need more time to move to safety."

Dalmer sneered, use what ya got here half high, and do it now" he barked as he exited the tunnel. Frodo set the caps upon the explosive canisters and with Rosetta's nimble fingers and tiny body placed them in the smallest crevices she could climb into. Qurag and the Orcs awaited Frodo's signal to pull back. He lit the fuse and motioned them back "go with Qurag Princess" he hissed. And as he hobbled from the fuse he looked back to see that one of the fuses had gone out. He swore under his breath, motioned the others to keep going and and grabbing the fuse line to the second cap, re-lit the one that had gone out. He turned quickly and moving as fast as his crutch would allow made for the opening. He was feeling every ache and hurt as he tried to hurry himself along, the others were moving ahead at a faster pace as he realized his breath was coming in gasps and his vision was blurring and he had a moments realization that he was not going to make it. A blur before his eyes turned to dark sweaty skin and suddenly Muglaz was in front of him, he felt himself roughly grasped about the waist and he gasped in pain as the explosion was detonated.

The noise was deafening and time seemed to fill with the noise, a deep echoing boom that rattled every fiber of Frodo's being. He gasped as the aftershock of the boom brought his grey dusty world down upon him and he felt himself screaming "Run, run" to whomever could hear.

His last image was of Qurag's back as the Orc knelt tucked around Rosetta, rocks and large stones bouncing off his dark and muscled back. Then he was falling, crushed from the weight of the large Orc holding him as they were buried in rock, stone and dust. He gasped as searing pain took his side and the impact of his fall took his consciousness. 

A few leagues away the Sam felt the ground rumble beneath his feet and heard the distant rumble of a loud explosion. He turned from his cooking fire to stare in the direction of the quarry. 'That best not be blastin' fer gold he thought.". Merry sidled up next to him and looked at the fear in Sam's eyes "now Sam, you heard the man say that they were doing some big quarry blasting...you just can't let every worry take you Sam...you'll be having us all jumpy as a hutch of rabbits." He clapped Sam on the back "speaking of rabbits...how's that dinner coming?". Sam pushed Merry's hand from his shoulder impatiently, "now jest ye be waitin' fer that dinner Mr. Merry....but mark me if that's a blast within a cave and not ta the side of the mountain..we'll be needin' Dwarves not Elves ta rescue Frodo and the Children.".

A vast sound of silence settled in the cave, the children's cavern. The fore rooms where the guards slept and the warren of caves that held the men who mined the quarry, all were silent for one shared moment of disbelief. Then, the guards who'd ducked, the children who'd screamed and the men who'd thought their lives of labor lost, all burst into action. Kylos had grabbed the nearest orphan and run to the back crevices of the cavern where they'd cowered until the dust settled. He did his best to calm the children as he checked to their scrapes and bruises. He looked up as Galen and Toleman rushed into their midst, his eyes saw the fear and pain in Galen's face and he felt his heart seize. His mouth could barely form the word "trapped?" he asked his voice tremoring. Galen nodded silently as he grabbed Kylos and some of the biggest boys to bring them to the blast site.

The weight upon him was tremendous, he felt as if his body would just flatten beneath the crushing pressure and he moaned from the pain in his chest. His mouth filled with the thickness of dust and his nostrils were assaulted with the smell of unwashed skin and raw meats. He tried to keep his breaths shallow, not just for the sake of easing the smells about him but to find a way to make the pain in his chest abate. He could not move, he was trapped in a tomb of rock and Orc and he felt the pain that his death would bring to others 'I'm sorry Sam' was his last thought before he was once more lost to the world of darkness. 

Qurag had uncoiled himself from about the girl child as soon as the tunnel was silent. He quickly, but firmly pushed her to the side and looked up to see Durzak before him. They exchanged few words, some grunts and gestures and both set to work heaving stone upon stone from the spot where they'd last seen their companion. In just moments they uncovered the body of Muglaz, his head crushed beneath the weight of a small boulder. Qurag made a sound of grief but pulled the body aside to reveal the still form of the halfling crumpled beneath the body of the Orc. He removed the last of the rocks and pulled the ringbearer by his outstretched arms to a flat spot beside where Rosetta sat sobbing in her fear. He looked to Durzak and made a motion to indicate he wanted the skin. Durzak growled and shook his head. Qurag became more insistent and extended his arm expectantly. With a final gnashing of his teeth Durzak gave up the Orc draught. 

Qurag pulled the hobbits face close to his and tilted his ear to listen for breath sounds. ' Yes, they were there' he thought 'too little he breathes'. He took the top from the skin and parting Frodo's lips poured in just a little of the sickly brown liquid, a little more and soon a gasping choking cough was heard as Frodo moaned and struggled to open his eyes. Qurag nodded and spoke " you hurt, not breathe good, you drink." Frodo's vision was blurry, his eyes beheld a fuzzy appararition which he soon realized was an Orc. His mind wandered to distant places of pain and he pulled back in alarm. "No hurt" Qurag grunted. Frodo stared wild eyed in fear for a moment until his thoughts cleared and he looked about him to take in the damage of the blast. 

What happened?" he whispered weakly. Qurag looked about and pointed to fallen rock about them "you right, too big blast, Muglaz save." Frodo closed his eyes and shook his head "being right is no solace now Qurag" he wheezed, just beginning to feel the draught begin to take the edge from his pain "Is anyone hurt?". Qurag pointed to where Durzak was squatting by the prone body of Muglaz. "Muglaz dead" the Orc said quietly. Frodo paled visibly and his voice shook as he said "he died to save me? Why Qurag? Why would your kind die to save that which took your world from you?" he whispered horrified by the sacrifice that had just been made.

Qurag looked momentarily puzzled, not understanding all of the hobbits words he replied "Qurag give order, Muglaz do, Qurag want ringbearer and girl child safe." Frodo felt a tear in his eye and suddenly Rosetta was there beside him, her small hand tucked with his and her other seeking the hand of Qurag. Qurag looked puzzled as he felt the tiny girl place her trusting hand inside his. He felt a strangeness inside him, a feeling of care and fear mingled as one and when he looked to her face she smiled tentatively and said "thank you, you saved my Sir Frodo....I need him Qurag, we all need him." she said matter of factly as her lips fixed in a smile. Qurag felt the strangeness within him grow, a strange feeling of desire, it changed and magnified the goodness around his existence, not a sick or hungry feeling, this was a feeling he had no name for, but a feeling he did not want to go away.

The small Orc looked penetratingly to Frodo " Qurag help, we go" he said as he helped the hobbit to his feet. Frodo, his hand now seeking his side for his pain was growing again grimaced and said "thank you Qurag, I am sorry for your loss, Muglaz was very brave." Qurag did not know what brave was so he said "Muglaz good Orc, take order, do work" he paused a moment to look back at where Durzak was squatting grunting out his pain and loss "Muglaz gone, we less with out him." was the closest he could come to describing how he felt. The Orc's simply had no words in their language, nor the ability to translate from any other, notions of feelings, pain, loss. Frodo watched in amazement as Qurag got up and pointed to Durzak, grunted and barred his teeth and watched the other Orc go into the depths that had been newly created with the blast. 


	28. ch 28: Agonizing

Faces of War

Chapter 28: Agonizing

Disclaimer: These amusing creatures are the property of J.R.R Tolkien...I have only "borrowed" them for a spell.....

Iorhael....hard to believe that the ones we thought most evil....have a streak of compassion, while those we thought as a race to be the saviors, have their wretches....not unlike real life I am guessing! Qurag is truly "one of a kind" among the Orcs....the "chosen" within his constituency....somewhat like Mr.Baggins!

Noonespecial...I must say...that name can't be true...after all, you are experiencing the veritable feast of stories offered by FF.net....that alone makes you unique and special! I am glad you are enjoying the story....there are lessons yet to be learned by all...and of course, much pain and angst to come!

Endymion2....Sorry the last one ended so abruptly....difficult break off point...you'll find this chapter leaves you dangling a bit as well...it's all done to "set up" our characters for a few surprises....Anborn will "miss" his toy...yet...there may be other "opportunities" for him! Yes, my Orc is somewhat of an enigma among a race we believed to be mindless and bent upon the destruction of all in their path....yet, Sauron had plans to rule all of Middle Earth...a task he could not have reasonably accomplished with his mindless minions...thus, the notion of breeding a "master race"....scary how "Hitler Like" this sounds.....I'm sure that many comparisons have been made between Hitler and Sauron....especially when you see the forces behind J.R.R Tolkien...the times he lived in and the times his children were forced to endure....

Shire Baggins....Yes, the whole "creation" myth of the Orcs has been in the back of my mind....sad really that such things take up such limited space...oh well! The Orc draught, in the books...and to a lesser degree in the movies, had amazing restorative properties....I can only imagine it must have been an opiate of sorts.....well, in any case it will sustain Frodo for just a little longer! Anborn will move in and out of the picture a bit from now on....but he's not gone, not by a long shot!

On with the saga.....

Galen struggled to keep the fear from his words and motions as he carried out Dalmer's orders. The strongest prisoners and most nimble orphans had been selected to try and dig the debris from the back tunnel. Dalmer paced angrily about the workers, barking orders or backhanding those whose strength waned. The guard tried to find reasons to stand close to Kylos as often as he dared without arousing suspicion, a look of understanding, a nod of support a rare brief touch of compassion was all he could offer the boy and it was not enough, not near enough. Galen felt as if his own heart was being ripped from his chest and with each moment that passed, each rock lifted with no progress seen, he'd relived again the death of his own little one. He found himself shaken in a way he'd vowed he'd never experience again, all his efforts to harden his heart and hate the world were now for naught for he realized that the Princess and her winsome ways were to be both his undoing and his salvation. He gestured to Toleman to bring dippers of water to all the workers, an action which earned him a scowl of contempt from Dalmer, but he cared not, for all his attention was focused on finding a way to free a blond haired waif and her slight teller of tales from the rubble of the collapsed mine.

His thoughts wandered back to nights of story telling not to long ago when he'd watched in envy as Frodo had woven a tale of such magnificence for the children that they'd gone to sleep dreaming of elven waybread that would magically sustain them, even as stale bread had been their repast. He'd listened enraptured to the stories of the Hobbit, lost in the gentle cadence of elven songs and descriptions of far away places that stirred his curiosity and woke his passion for the future. The children had clustered about him, eyes wide in wonder as their thoughts were turned from their own hardship to admiration for heros of old. The Princess had held the place of honor, cuddled securely in the crook in Frodo's arm. Galen though longingly of the look of joy on her face as Frodo had told the tale of Beorn and his conversing with the animals of the forest, of the bravery of the people of Laketown and the fearsome antics of Smaug the dragon. Tales that had long been legend and fireside myth came to life in the lyrical weaving of words and images that fell from Frodo's lips. The normally steady composure of the hardened soldier of Gondor nearly failed him as he recalled Frodo's attempt to avoid the telling of his own tale, and the burgeoning look of cornered fear he'd seen growing in the wide blue eyes as the Hobbit had tried to steer his stories away from the truths he himself had lived.

Galen had heard the gossip of soldiers, had known men who'd been on hand when the ring had gone into the fire, he'd heard of the horrors of Cormallen and the hope that had hung by the merest of threads as the ringbearer's life had hung between worlds. He'd seen the love of a child sooth the fear and pain of one too deeply scarred to believe in anything but pain. He clenched his fists as his determination grew, he would not allow that spark to go out, he would do all in his power to see the light and life of the gently born Hobbit and his miracle working child restored.

He took a deep breath and took a few steps to the entrance of the cave to find some fresh air to clear his thoughts and as he did so he heard the harried and terse whispers of his boss and his beast of a brother. He slowed his footsteps and tensed himself to listen. "Dalmer, The King is no fool, he'll need proof of the halflings safety before he calls his men away from the ships." Galen heard Dalmer's angry retort "proof he wants? Where then shall we find that brother, I can see from the glare in your eyes have a plan afoot then?". Dalmer snorted contemptuously. Anborn's laugh sent a chill down Galen's spine "aye, I've a plan alright...but first we'll wait and see what the efforts of these useless scum bring us." Galen leaned in to hear of this plan but was startled by the presence of Toleman behind him suddenly. He gestured the old man away, but it was too late, Dalmer and Anborn had finished their conversation and as Galen rounded the corner the two men were nowhere to be seen. He cursed his bad luck and vowed to keep his ears and eyes open to keep afoot of whatever new evil these two men meant to cause.

The darkened tunnel was narrow and oppressive in it's closeness. Frodo coughed weakly and stumbled as his hand had difficulty holding pressure to his side while manipulating his crutch as well. He was aware of Durzak's presence as a muscled arm shot out to support him. Frodo looked gratefully to the broad features and scowling countenance of his Orc guide "thank you" he whispered and then coughed more forcefully. The cough ripped through his chest and left him shaken as a stabbing pain gripped his side. He clutched his stomach to still the heaving motion of his ribs as his cough shook him, he raised his hand to wipe the spittle from his cracked lips and was horrified to see pink tinged fluid come away. He looked quickly to Durzak, who had seemed only to notice that the Hobbit had stopped his coughing and was waiting to see how much help he would need to continue walking. Frodo slowly motioned that he was ready and they continued their slow pace forward into the dark and twisting tunnel.

Qurag held to Rosetta's hand and felt along the wall of the passage, it seemed that the blast had opened up natural openings in the cavern that led back further into the mountain. Though they had been walking for several hours, the ringbearer's weakening condition was not allowing them to move quickly and they'd covered very little ground. He stopped walking forward and gently gestured for Rosetta to sit and rest a bit while he waited for Durzak to catch up. He turned to walk towards them but was stopped by a tiny hand upon his knee "don't go Qurag, I'm scared" she whispered. In the dark he could see only the fairness of her hair but he squatted before her "no worry, me stay, we wait" the Orc grunted softly. They had only moments to wait and the sound of Frodo's coughing could be heard, growing louder as they neared the seated pair before them. Qurag listened intently to the cough, it was getting worse and with each cough now a gasp of pain and the wheeze of shallow breaths could also be heard. He frowned, they had very little draught left and he did not know how much farther they would have to travel to be safe from further cave in's near the blasting site.

The darkness of the cave hid from Qurag's observant eyes the true depth to which Frodo's strength had sunk. With a moan Frodo allowed Durzak to guide him to the floor near to his Princess, he reached out a hand to reassuringly grasp her hand and felt the warmth of her returning squeeze. "How is my Princess holding up?" he whispered, his breath hitching as he fought to suppress yet another cough. "I'm scared of this big dark Sir Frodo" she said, her voice sounding very small indeed. He sighed and searched his mind for a tale filled with light and hope to chase away the shadows. He told her tales of Lothlorian, seeking the brightest words to describe the most beautiful place he could think of. Soon he felt Rosetta's breathing become quieter and quieter until she was fast asleep, her head nestled on his lap and her hand clutching his. He leaned his head down to kiss her dirty curls, and sighed, he was so very tired and he did not know how far back these tunnels ran, he wondered how he would find the strength to keep going. He soon felt his lids growing heavy and his head dropped to his chest as he dropped off to sleep. Qurag, who'd listened and watched from nearby crept forward and gently laid the Hobbit down while wrapping one of Frodo's arms about the fair haired child. He marveled in his head, in his own language with which he had many more words, at the strength of this little man like creature. He'd seen Orcs three times his size felled from similar hurts and he wondered where such strength came from in one so small. Vague images of moments filled with respect and words of support, times of warmth and comfort came to him and he recalled the Snaga that was his birth mother. "She would like this ringbearer" he thought to himself.

Qurag sat down beside his companion and motioned that Durzak should rest. The larger Orc grunted and grumbled in his black speech "you rest, your turn" but Qurag shook his head and with a hand motion that would brook no defiance told his handler that he would rest when ready and not before. Durzak grumbled but groped along the wall and found a spot away from the threesome to stretch out and sleep. Qurag nodded his approval of Durzak's obedience, he had been trained well in the breeding camp and had followed all his orders with little resistence up to now. Even when commanded to leave the camp and accompany a band of Snaga to lands outside of Mordor, Durzak and Muglaz has complied. Qurag spared a moment to think of his dead companion, a feeling near to grief, a sensation of loss, an emptiness without the pull of sadness took him and he sighed heavily in remembrance of the dead Orcs brave deed. He wondered if the remaining Orcs of Mordor had fared any better than he and his companions. There had been precious few of them left, many had run to the caves, some to their allies in the south and some had stayed to continue their jobs with the Snaga of the camp. He feared that those who had stayed had met their end when the the King's men had come to give the camp the freedom the ringbearer had spoken of. 'What is this _freedom_ ?' he found himself wondering 'and why die to find it?'. He listened to the rasping breath of the ringbearer and wondered if the small one too would die in search of this _freedom_.

Dalmer paced the site of the cave in, his eyes glinted with an anger born of frustration and the disappointment of dreams long planned cast asunder. He watched with gradually cooling detachment as the clearing of the cave in bore no fruit after 12 hours, then 20 hours had past. After a day and a half of digging he went in search of Anborn. He found his brother taking inventory of the gold they'd dug thus far and ordering several scrappy orphans to bundle and pack it into small barrels labeled "ale" or "Meade" or "wine". Dalmer nodded his approval and clapped his brother upon the shoulder "Well done brother, it will be necessary for us to disguise the goods and I can think of no better way to drink to our fortunes!". Anborn laughed and curtly dismissed the three orphan boys who'd been loading the small casks. Dalmer grew serious and shook his head as he said "there will be no digging to release that cursed Hobbit, the cave in was too large, we must have a plan to meet the King to delay our transfer of the Hobbit." Anborn stroked his chin thoughtfully and studied his feet but a moment before replying " he shall have a glimpse of his ringbearer...but only a glimpse for we shall show him from a distance, enough to satisfy the curiosity, but not enough to satiate completely eh brother?" he asked , the grin upon his face cast an evil light upon his features.. Dalmer frowned, not entirely trusting his brother's schemes " why do you speak in riddles" he grumbled. Anborn laughed "ah my brother, you show little imagination....I shall take a like sized orphan with dark curls and place upon him the halflings mithrial shirt....the King shall believe that we have the ringbearer....and we shall stall for enough time to gather our men upon one ship and defeat the guards before we sail to the Corsairs as we have planned. Now, we shall have a little 'accident' with our quarry work, one which shall, alas, seal the cave and all it's secrets from those wishing to find ways to get us on the bad side of our sovereign King" Dalmer quirked one eyebrow and mulled over the plan in his head. He was loathe to admit it, but it had some merit and he slowly nodded his approval as his lips twisted upwards in a smile that changed the demeanor of the cold face upon which it rested. The cruel hardness of the man of Gondor was transformed and in the place of cold hard steel was found instead the laughter and warmth of a bright Spring day. "Ah my brother, if mother could only see the men we have become...." he said, leaving his words unspoken and unchallenged in their truth. Dalmer sent Anborn to find a suitable orphan as he rummaged his chests for the mithrial shirt he'd discovered upon the halfling several weeks before as they'd first arrived at the quarry.

Sam and the other hobbits circled about the area of the woods that Galen had told them of. They were waiting for a signal, a sign that they'd somehow hear the rumble of gentle explosives that dictated their intended escape. Yet, no escape came. In fact the ridge woods were silent beyond all reckoning and Sam became nervous. He looked about him, the depth of the distant blue sky, the warble of a nearby bird, the mindless drone of bees set to a stand of daisies, the usually soothing sounds of the earth brought him no comfort. He felt his sense of dread heightened, a cold sweat upon his brow and a tightness in his chest. He exhaled forcibly, trying to shake from his mind the images he'd woken with this morning....Frodo, hobbling with a crutch, gasping for air and clutching his side in pain as the massive scarred arm of an Orcs guided the direction of his movements. These pictures in his mind were coming more frequently and each image was more disturbing than the last. He looked to Merry and Pippin, admiring the ease with which they supported and helped one another. The sight of their camaraderie brought only pain and longing and he vowed if he were reunited with his Master, he'd never let him go again.

Sam found a fallen log, a softened and wood rotted section had covered it's wounds with moss and he settled himself in nature's armchair to wait the next move.

Dalmer gagged the scrawny brunette they'd selected. They'd placed the mithrial shirt, Frodo's old elven cloak and the soft leather boots of Rumeil upon his feet and dragged him unceremoniously to the waiting cart. The slight ten year old boy landed with a painful "thwump" in the back of the wagon and without looking back once Dalmer ordered them to move out.

Anborn handed the reins of his grey stallion to Mendal and lit the long fuses they's hidden on either side of the cave's opening. His self satisfied smile was tinged with a small degree of loss, he would miss the softness and wonder of the fair halfling. For a moment he was lost in moments of pale flesh, gasps of pain and trembling lips and he felt his growing excitement and he shifted his stance amongst the boulders by the entrance of the cavern. He took one last look about the quarry. The prisoners, the disgruntled soldiers and the Orcs from Mordor had all disappeared upon the far horizon and he knew it was at long last, his time to go. He turned his hard grey eyes to Mendal and said " well, this tis the burial site of the the rattling from the shire and all his sniveling friends, 'tis time we set out after the others...we have a King's ransom to collect after all " he laughed as he clasped the guard upon his back and nimbly mounted his stallion. As the two men urged their horse to a trot and turned up the narrow path to the top of the quarry they turned in time to see a great billowing of dust even as the ground trembled beneath them and their horses reared in fear of the shattering noise of the explosion. Anborn reined in his mount roughly and pulling hard to control his horse, gave the quarry one last perusal before setting off after the others as a heavy silence descended upon the mountain pass.


	29. chapter 29: Imagining

Faces of War

Chapter 29: Imagining

Disclaimer: No, these characters are not mine...although I wish they were! These character's, in their original form are th work of J.R.R. Tolkien...I have just "adapted" them for my own imaginative freetime.....

Someonespecial...love the new name! Yes, I must admit my own thinking about Orc's changed after reading jodancingtree's "following the other wizard"....and like Frodo, I have to believe that someone, even as evil as an orc, can "come back"...Oh yes, Sam and Frodo will reunite...even now as the story progresses you'll see that Sam is bing "gifted" in a sense with his visions of Frodo...although Sam sees it as more of a curse as he witnesses Frodo's pain in all it's unfettered starkness.

endymion2....Anborn just can't get this hobbit out of his mind...he may just have to take one more shot at his retribution...and Sam's visions are going to help him later,,,even though he sees now only that these "pictures" of Frodo are bringing him torment...these images will serve a purpose...and poor ole Aragorn...being a King is very trying...he is caught up in trying orchestrate a rescue of very large proportions...these Corsair ships require nearly two hundred men to handle them...and he is a little short handed....but he will I hope be duped only long enough to help the story progress and not long enough for us to lose faith in our Ranger of the north!

Elanorelle....Thanks so very much for taking the time to review...there are so many fun and wonderful stories out there...it is hard to chose which ones to follow isn't it? I find that I myself probably read two chapters for everyone that I am able to review....I must remind myself to be better about this as well! I don't know how I could let Frodo die...he will have times when he wishes for death...but we will see what happens! Thanks for your kind words...I hope you'll keep reading....

Shire Baggins...I must take a moment to thank you...you have been amongst one of my very faithful reviewers....I appreciate it when one as talented as yourself takes the time time review the work of others...I must remember to do the same! Yes, Frodo found the encounter with the cave in a bit punishing...he does have a few broken ribs...thank goodness for the compassion of Qurag...Frodo has strength to give to others...a will to live for the good of others...little sense of worth or value beyond that I am afraid...he sees his purpose here as tied to the vision of the Valar and the saving of the children....the interaction between Frodo and the Orcs will also be a telling part of Frodo's future.

Iorhael....Galen is discovering or re-discovering his humanity through Frodo's suffering....in a strange way the Orcs are finding the meaning of humanity through this same hobbit...our little Frodo is somewhat of a bridge between cultures...both capable of atrocities or compassion it would seem...

Toleman cocked his head to one side. His ears, after months in the deadening silence of the caves, were very sensitive to any change in the area around him. There was a feeling, a sense, a vague notion of disquiet and unease that attached themselves to his sense of hearing. He lifted his head from his task of boiling herbs, to see that all the others heard nothing and in fact were busy about their appointed tasks. He shrugged and quirked his eyebrow in a gesture of scepticism and went back to his work of stripping the leaves from the stems of the plants and immersing them in steaming water to steep. No sooner had he dropped the first leaf in the water than he heard a tremendous explosion and felt the ground rumble and shake beneath him. He spun away from the fire and grabbed the nearest child as he instinctively raced to the far reaches of the cavern.

The air was enveloping him in a cloud of slowly rolling dust that sought to cover him in it's wake. He was vaguely aware of the screams and cries of the children as he heard Galen shout to them "run...hurry, HURRY" the guard's voice became shrill with urgency and all ran as the ground shook, dust surrounded them and their cries echoed from the close embrace of the cavern walls. Their feet, given the speed of their fear, wasted no time and they found themselves all safely away from the site of the worst damage from the blast. Galen, panting from his fear and burst of energy, sought to slow his ragged breathing and congratulated all present on their escape. Then, he took inventory of who had escaped and what exactly the damage had been.

A row of raggedly dressed and dirt coated children stared back at him. He did a quick mental count, of the 23 that had started the day with him, 22 now remained. He grimaced and counted again, wanting to be sure of his facts before he set people to panicking. Galen turned to Kylos who was standing, head and back bent over, hands on his knees to provide sustenance as he struggled to catch his breath. "One 'o the wee ones, new boy, brought here jest yesterday from the abandoned settlements near ta the bluffs, he's about 10 years of age, dark hair..." he said as he voice trailed off "he's not here." The burley guard bent his head towards Kylos, to better hear the words of the young one, "he was talking with Anborn when last I saw him" the lad panted. Galen felt a knot in his stomach, time spent with Anborn could lead to nothing good and he felt the color drain from his face as he wondered at the game that Anborn now played.

"Garth" Kylos whispered, " his name is Garth". Galen's head rose abruptly from where he'd been staring into Kylos's eyes, he felt his heart lurch at the free use of the name he'd given his eldest son. "Garth?" he said perplexed. "Yes" Kylos continued "he has only just joined us In the last day or two...while you were off with Mendal, hunting for the camp. Galen's mind was drawn back inexorably to the long ago dark day he'd returned from a training encampment with his fellow soldiers of Gondor to find his village lying in smoking ruins. He clenched his eyes closed and steadied himself against the rough coolness of the cavern wall. Image upon image flashed before him and he drew his breath in sharply as pictures of ruin, pain and death filled his mind. The forlorn figure of his tiny Kindra, honey curls matted with blood, eyes open and sightless as she lay in the far meadow. His beloved wife of near on 12 years, a lass who'd laughed her way into his heart, her body piled with those of the other villagers, their newest Babe, name unknown as he'd been born while he was away, clutched frantically in her arms. He'd searched the village and questioned all in the surrounding area....but had found no trace of his eldest lad. He clenched his eyes closed and shook his head, he'd assumed that Garth had been tossed into the nearby lake, hands bound as their tormenters had laughed as they'd watched the lads of the village drowned one after another, this after all being the tale told by the one left to tell the tale. He'd spoken with the one witness the Orcs had left alive, an old man they had beaten and then told it would be his job to tell all men of Gondor of the fury of their master. Galen muttered vile curses under his breath and Kylos, still kneeling beside him grew alarmed at the guards shaken form and frightening demeanor "Galen, Galen...are you well?" he whispered softly.

Galen, his moment of hell washed from his mind by the boys intrusive caring, took a deep breath and nodded "aye" he said sadly "aye, now lets get back to the sleeping quarters and see to the lasses and the other young ins....I can see that Dalmer meant only ta trap us...he'd not of known of our escape tunnel to the rear....lets jest hope that the blast did not set us back to terrible." Galen helped Kylos to his feet and rounded up Toleman and the others and herded them back to the children's cavern where they lit several more torches and inspected the damage to the rear tunnel network.

Kylos and Galen conversed softly as they waited anxiously for Mela, a tiny slip of a girl, to crawl back into the narrow and twisting crawl space they'd managed to dig so far. She came back in a moment, wiping dust from her eyes as she handed the torch to Galen " 'tis jest a bit loosened Galen, me and the others could clear and finish the last bits in less than a day I'm thinking" she said, her optimism shining in her round eyes. Kylos felt his relief course through him, but then a nagging worry came to him as he thought once more of Rosetta and Frodo. "What of them" he whispered stricken as he turned to Galen, eyes filled with worry and fear "what has the blast done ta them?". Galen, his eyes full of pain clasped the lad upon his shoulder "let us see to gettin' the other young in's out first lad, then we shall see what other help may be had ta help us free yer sister and the hobbit." Kylos looked puzzled until Galen explained his encounter with the provisioning officers and his directions to have them meet him in the ridge woods. Kylos sighed with relief "you've met our Ada's Sam...now I can feel that all may at last be well" the lad said with a smile. Galen was touched by the apparent warmth the boy felt for the hobbit "aye, after listenin' ta Frodo's tales of Sam I'd expect no less than a miracle of hope and a triumph of wills from that one." The man paused a moment and then with a puzzled expression asked"what name did ye call yer Sir Frodo by just now?". Kylos smiled, a tiny twist of his lips, as if he was embarrassed to be caught "Ada" he said quietly " 'tis elvish for 'Father'...Rosetta started it and when the others heard, well, the name seemed ta fit 'em and so it is what we call him...at least amongst ourselves" he finished defensively. Galen shook his head " 'tis nothin' ta be so prickly about lad, 'tis a name I'm sure Frodo would wear with pride if he knew of it.". The big hearted guard found himself hoping that there'd be a time when the Hobbit knew of the regard in which these lost children held him.

As the echos of the blast retreated from it's momentary omnipresence and the shaking of the ground beneath his feet subsided, Frodo dared to breath once more. His slowly indrawn breath, filled with the dry caress of dust as it slowly glided down his throat, held his feet stilled even as his frame shook from the pain filled contortions of his paroxysm of coughing. He felt the sweat run down the back of his neck, his already damp collar becoming sodden in his effusive trembling. His legs felt weak and as he grasped blindly at the rough angles of the wall before him, he feared he would collapse, and was relieved to feel the knobby and calloused hand of Durzak grasping him by the dampness of his shirt. His coughing rose up to overwhelm his senses and for long moments, naught but the harsh strident sound of lungs pushed beyond their strength, the wheezing of air sought too greedily and the occasional moan of one lost to their world of pain, filled the focus of those present.

Qurag stood, stilled by the fear brought to him by the tremor of the cavern wall. He clasped Rosetta to him, his muscled arms a barrier to that which would bring harm to the sun haired child in his possession. The persistent pain wracked sound of Frodo's cough had stilled for a fraction of a second as the walls about them had trembled and shaken it's coating of dust newly upon the visitors standing in the shadow of it's walls. As the shaking slowly receded to the distant spaces to the front of the caves Qurag found his way to the side of the burly Orc and his charge. "We go, no more wait, quickly go" Qurag said firmly as he stooped to pick up a frightened Princess and put his hand out to pull Durzak's arm. They had no time to ponder what force had brought more shaking to their world of dark and dust, he felt an urgent need to press on knowing that only danger and more pain lurked in the depth of the dark behind them.

Durzak, taking his cue from the smaller Orc, hurriedly pulled Frodo into his arms and followed. The cave was still, the stagnant air dark and invasive in it's ability to creep and crawl upon their skin and into the worried recesses of their fears. Frodo could hear the Princess murmuring in her softly sniffled sobs about "big dark" and he longed to reach to her and comfort her, to let her know that this dark was safe for at least it sought only to surround their bodies, not to invade one's mind and heart as had the darkness of his nightmares. He was so weary, his mind and body ached with his fatigue, and he found himself so very grateful that the Orc saw his way to carrying him through the winding passages of the dark and cloying closeness of the tunnels. The thickness of the dust, the heat and stillness of the dank air made breathing every breath an effort which required Frodo to concentrate, to focus all of his waning strength on the sensation of bringing the stale air in and out of his pain ravaged lungs.. The pain from his ribs had grown to a stabbing agony, the cough that had been lurking in the back of his throat saw fit just then to come forth and the violence of it's sudden wave of torturous pain caused him to shudder. He tried in vain to still and quiet the agonizing motions of his chest, succeeding only in managing to gasp and inhale deeply, causing another round of coughs to begin. His vision, already impaired from the pervasive darkness, began to waiver, the walls about him seeming to fade and the dark scarred etchings upon Durzak's skin to dance before him.

Qurag frowned when his eyes, sharpened from years of cave dwelling, spied the pale and trembling form of the ringbearer. He tightened his grasp upon the limp form of the sun haired child, grateful that she at least was quiescent in his arms and he wondered what fate had in store for them. He increased the pace of his steps, the sound of Frodo's groans urging him to grunt words in black speech to hurry the steps of the burley Orc behind him. The air began to feel gradually lighter and a soft cooling motion of air brushed by his sweaty cheeks and as his feet found a sharp downward turn beneath them he found himself in a portion of the cavern's innards that were gradually opening up to a larger and larger space. His breathing became easier and he grunted again to Durzak to hasten as he spied light in the far distance.

With a grunt of relief Quarag saw a crack in the wall before him and with a burst of speed came forth through the jagged opening to feel at last the cool breath of early evening air that his lungs so desired. He clasped the girl to his chest tightly and felt her sharply indrawn breath of surprise at the sudden change in his posture as he worked to squeeze himself through the roughly hewn and narrow opening. The uneven surface of the rock scraped painfully against his skin but he paid it no heed, so anxious was he to find his way out. With a last twist and a grunt of effort he managed to get he and the sun haired child through the opening.

He set the girl down and reached back to help Durzak maneuver the unconscious body of the ringbearer through the crack. Frodo's head lolled listlessly backwards and Durzak struggled to move the dead weight of the ringbearer forward to Qurag while keeping the hobbit's head from coming in contact with the wall. Qurag reached to wrap his arms about the shoulders of the hobbit and with a careful twist of his arms gently pulled the dust covered head and shoulders of the ringbearer towards him until the prone form of the hobbit was pulled at last from the dank confines of the cave. Qurag dragged his limp form to rest near to the girl child and watched as Durzak, with some grunting and his scarred face contorted with his effort, finally freed himself from the grip of the narrow opening.

The shadows of evening danced about the scrub brush they'd landed in, the soft caress of the wind soothing and rejuvenating in it's touch, the freedom to breathe deeply and fully a tonic to their weary minds. Qurag looked upon the still form of the ringbearer and the of the sun haired child who had wrapped herself about him. Her childish entreaties breaking into the detachment of his thoughts "Sir. Frodo, we did it, we're out...we can find the others and go home now Sir Frodo...Frodo" she shook him gently "Frodo?...wake up Sir Frodo..." her soft words became interspersed with sniffles and Qurag could see the leaking of water upon her face. He knelt by her side "He rest now. He need drink to heal hurts. Must find help." his voice sounded harsh beside the quiet gentle tones of the child. "You must help him then Qurag, you must give him some of your drink...then we shall go find Kylos." Rosetta said with certainty and a smile.

The Orc looked to Durzak and gestured for the skin only to receive an answering grunt and series of sounds to indicate an answer that did not meet with Qurag's pleasure. Qurag grunted louder and motioned more insistently, a gleam of anger in his eyes and a sneer upon his lips Durzak finally complied. Qurag frowned at his companion and went to put his hands behind the Ringbearer's neck, to hoist him up for a chance to drink from the draught that would bring him some measure of relief.

Qurag felt his wrist grasped by the slender fingers of the ringbearer and he looked to see wide blue eyes, eyes shadowed with pain and despair, looking to him. "Don't waste it now Qurag" Frodo whispered "I don't have much time left....I should like you to see my Princess to safety...you go and leave me here...take her to find help..." his words were little more than gasps and Qurag had to bend low to hear them. Rosetta bent to wrap her arms about Frodo's neck "No, we'll not leave you " she said firmly "will we Qurag?". The Orc looked with understanding to the hobbit, he could see the desire of the little one beside him, felt the anguish in his unspoken words, knew that the ringbearer would forsake his own life to save the sun haired one at his side. He continued to lift Frodo's head "drink, not time yet, we still go, we together have hope, alone we have none." Frodo closed his eyes and sighed as he nodded briefly, accepting once more the burden of his pain he opened his eyes and took but a small swallow of Qurag's foul brew and coughed in response to the harsh fire in his throat. Qurag held the ringbearer gently as his cough shook his tiny frame and watched his face whiten from the pain this movement cost him. The Orc looked to Frodo's eyes to ascertain his readiness for more travel, seeing a quiet acceptance and resignation there he motioned to Durzak, together they picked up their charges and began to make their way through the shadows of the evening.

The stark quiet of the quarry stood in sharp contrast to Sam's memory of just days ago. The encampment echoed with the quiet of his last vision of men shouting, whips cracking and horses

straining to pull their heavy loads of stone. He felt his heart harden in fear and anger as he looked to the opening of the cavern, it's opening filled with the destruction wrought by the men's last blast. Sam clenched his fists and turned to Legolas and the others "Why, why'd they do such a thing....and to the wee ones no less...what manner of man buries children alive?" Legolas turned his eyes from Sam, looking to Gimli for support said "Men with no regard for the gifts of Iluvitar, men we shall surely hunt to their deaths." Gimli growled his assent and hoisted his axe "aye, they'll feel the kiss of my axe soon of that I can assure you master Gamgee." Sam shook his head and looked to his companions " 'tis not revenge I'm wantin'...it is but the chance to see my master, to hold 'em, to tell him of my sorrows...and of my love, for all he's done and my hope for all he has yet to do." Sam's voice broke in his pain "do you not see? Mr. Frodo's

tasks are not done yet...the Valar hold greater purpose for him, and we must help for I see that the children are a part of this purpose...we must get the children from the cave!". Merry and Pippin suddenly materialized by Sam's side "Aye, he 'tis right in this Gimli, Frodo followed his vision to the children...and we must do our part now" said Pippin, his usual sparkle of humor transformed to a fire of purpose which added depth to his commitment.

Legolas looked to the Dwarf, paused but a moment and nodded as he motioned to his elf Kindred to take up any shovel or tool they could find and begin the task of excavating the blast site. The hobbit's soon found that they could not match the elves in strength or length of limb, their efforts combined were paltry compared to the ageless grace of the elves or the knowledge of Gimli and they were soon given other tasks. Sam paced the top of the ridge impatiently and watched the progress of the work below, he dared not rest for that was when his images came to him most clearly and he could not bear the pain and anguish that was a too frequent visitor to his dreams.

His eyes searched the depths of the ridge woods, the smell of crisp pine and the feel of softened leaf decay beneath his feet brought him back to moments in the Shire. He closed his eye, transported to a day of warmth and childish play in the woods near the row. He heard in his mind the voices of his youth "rangers move with stealth Sam, they move as one with the woods about them, their skills not being limited to those of the warrior, but also that of the elves....they may seem to become one with the woods about them...until you least expect it" ...came Frodo's melodious voice, a voice which never ceased to hold Sam in it's spell. He recalled the panic he'd felt when of a sudden his Master Frodo was nowhere to be seen, a frantic look about him brought to his sight only the tall pines and low lying hollyhocks of the forest. He'd felt his breath catch and his heart start to race as he'd feared, not for the first time, that his magical Master had up and disappeared...gone ta the places only the elf types could visit and he wiped a tear from his cheek before he could even yell out. His stomach had tightened and his head had hurt with the knowledge that his fey friend may have taken it upon himself to seek other realms, he couldn't hold back a sob and was soon sitting upon a blanket of pine needles, head buried in his arms sobbing his loss for all the world to hear.

A gentle touch upon his arm, the firm grasp of a hand upon his chin and he was looking into the endless dream of Frodo's blue eyes, eyes filled with remorse and worry. "Sam, I was just up ahead there, in that copse of trees...I did not mean to get so far from you...please don't worry so my Samwise, I'd not do anything to worry you of purpose my friend." Sam had found his young body enfolded in the hug of his tweenaged Master and guide, and had shamefacedly tried to hide his worry and tears behind the made up excuse of a twisted ankle. Frodo had helped him home with many smiles and words of encouragement, even as Sam had accepted his aid for an ankle that bore no mark or deformity, a circumstance which he'd felt even then, had not passed by his clever Master. He'd never had the courage to explain to his gentle and kind friend the worries that had taken him that day. He sat suddenly beneath a sturdy pine and buried his head in his arms, now he felt he might never be given the chance to and the fear and emptiness of memories they might never share came upon him and he sobbed once more as he'd done that day in the forest of the Shire, yet this time there was no steady voice to comfort him.


	30. Chapter 30: Salvaging

Faces Of War

Chapter 30: Salvaging

Disclaimer: The characters and images of LOTR belong to the imaginings of J.R.R. Tolkien...

Iorhael....Please take my Orcs to help Frodo out of any scrape you can conjure up, although your own characters are so wonderfully real...you could easily make your own! Frodo will soon find he has to depend on the Orcs for more than he ever dreamed would be important to him! Thanks for the compliment about vocab....I too learn from reading others stories....

Elanorelle...Thank you for your thoughtful review...I believe as you that the world is imbued with many shades of grey....Frodo is able to see the blending of rights and wrongs because he has lived the melding of good into evil....many are so blinded by their pasts that they cannot see the future....Frodo has a desire to forget his past ( and his memories before the quest were taken by the insidious evil of the ring)...and thus all he really can see with any clarity is the future..now he just has to see himself and where he belongs!

Endymion2....Glad that the story is not predictable....in truth, this story at times takes me by surprise! Yes, even where Galen had abandoned all hope for love...had reconciled himself to a life of hate...even he may find redemption! Alas for poor Frodo and the Fellowship...their world is filled with obstacles!

Shire Baggins....Galen's son may yet be the hope that is looked for....Galen's son was not a part of the orphan group that traveled with Frodo...a "late" comer, he was added to the slaves when Mendal and Galen were out on the hunting party that Gimli and the hobbits came upon! Yes, Frodo would find death a welcome relief and an easy way "out"...but he'll not opt for the easy way when people he loves are in need....what will happen when those he loves are gone?

Aragorn paced the rocky ledge above the river restlessly, his heart felt a wariness he'd not encountered in many months, and though he had no specific reason to feel so, his discomfort was a warning that awoke his former hardened Ranger senses. He found, at times such as these, his mantle as King difficult to bear. The suspicion and wary nature of a Ranger was not proving to be an effective way to rule his subjects, his experiences with the refugee camps had taught him that, but whom should he trust? What events and circumstances deserved his involvement? Where was the tenuous line between who he was and who he was born to be supposed to cross? He stopped his restless steps and looked out over the panorama below him. The second Corsair ship was anchored just around the bend, from his vantage point he could see the mast, it's ecru sail hideously emblazoned with the symbol of the marauders from whom it was wrested, two bloody cudgels entangled in the blood and severed bonds of a lifeless hand. He felt his skin crawl with disgust at the images this flag brought to mind. He'd seen the insides of Corsair slave vessels and camps, he knew the torment that was brought down upon their victims....the lucky ones died before they were made slaves and forced to service the cruel whims of their soulless captors.

His thoughts were interrupted by the brisk sound of hurried feet upon skittering stone and he turned from his river perusal to confront his visitor. "Ah, Faramir....your footsteps told me of your approach, what news have you from the last watch? Has a messenger yet been sighted?".

Faramir nodded his head reverently towards his king and eyes down cast proceeded to speak "My King, the soldier of the watch reports that an emissary of the Quarry camp is approaching, I thought you should like to be the one to converse with him." Aragorn frowned, both in response to the words and Faramir's method of delivery. "Faramir" Aragorn said, his weary eyes saddened further at the deference paid him by a friend "please, there is no one about, we may converse as one worried friend to another, I do not feel the need to be deferred to, it is your sense of kinship, your knowledge of our fellowship I need more than all else during such dark times."

The Steward's son lifted his eyes and stared at the lines of pain etched in the Kings face "forgive me, it is just a difficult time for all, I did not wish to add to your worries with assumptions of friendship My King." Aragrorn sighed and grasped the steady shoulder of his friend "Friendship between us is no assumption Faramir, you have been with us through much these past days." Aragorn watched a dark shadow fall upon the young man beside him "you need not fear that the evil deeds of your former captain have left you in any ill favor Faramir....Anborn's cruelties, past or present are no fault of yours." Faramir nodded after a moment and Aragorn continued "now what news ?".

As they turned and made their way upon the dusty outcropping of rock that crowned the ledges above the river bend, Faramir told of the newest message to come from the camp. "We received a messenger from the Quarry...one who waits to speak with you now, he seems most intent upon delivering this message to you personally." The Steward's son said with a worried frown. Aragorn nodded quickly and they returned silently to the camp, where his soldiers kept a wary eye upon the cloaked figure waiting beside a worn and lathered horse. It was obvious they had ridden hard to reach the camp and Aragorn vowed that his trackers would avail themselves of his Ranger training and find from whence the messenger had traveled.

The King stepped forward and eyed the man before him with contempt " What news have you of the Ringbearer, we have waited these two days past for your message." The cloaked figure moved forward and turned a gleaming eye upon the King "That 'tis not the way ta be greetin' the ones that hold yer halfhigh now Sire....there's no tellin' on my part what's contained in this here letter, but I'm bettin' a little courtesy will get it to yer hands faster." Mendal sneered as he held the parchment close to his chest. Aragorn's eyes blazed in anger, but he controlled his scathing remarks and turned to one of his guard "see to it that our 'guest' has some liquid refreshment while he awaits my reply to his message." The soldier nodded curtly and with that Mendal laughed "Aye, that 'tis much more mannerly...more 'regal' ya might say...here 'tis then...words fer ya to ponder" he said as he held out the scroll to Aragorn.

Aragorn snatched the message and unrolled it quickly. His frown deepened as he scanned the words.

_ The half high you seek has taken ill...it seems that he was not fully recovered from his previous travels...so in his weakened state has not fared as well as we'd hoped under the careful 'ministrations' of my men. Do not fear however, we have taken it upon ourselves to see that he is given an ample opportunity to rest. After all, the 'entertainment' he has offered my men, while a pleasant diversion, has been a strain to all....most especially to my brother. I will keep the Ringbearer from further harm, and within your sights until the gold is exchanged. He will remain bound, gagged and blindfolded upon the peak of the Kings bluff as your men place the gold in a series of bags bourne by several of my messengers. Starting with Mendal, you will place pouches of gold coin in his saddlebags and continue until all the gold has been sent. I will send one messenger each hour to carry the gold to me. Your Halfhigh will remain not just within your sights, but within the sights of my archers as well until all gold has been delivered. If we see from our hidden vantage point that you are following the messengers or seeking to release the halfhigh, your precious Ringbearer may once again feel the attentions my men are more than anxious to pay to him...then he will be skewered before your eyes by four of my best archers. We watch you from afar my King, and wait to see the intentions of your actions. _

_ Dalmer_

Aragorn looked above him to the distant hills, shading his eyes against the glare of the late day sun he scanned the horizon anxiously. His heart nearly stopped as he looked upon the ridge far above and a half mile or more distant to see the small form suspended roughly between two twisted trees. The dusky green cloak covered to some extent the glare of the brilliant mithrial shirt beneath, the dark curls sagged as the head lolled forward, face covered by both blindfold and gag. There was little doubt that this unconscious body, hands tied by tethers to the trees on either side, was not faring well under it's restraint. Aragorn, with a burning hatred in his breast turned to leap upon the messenger, to rend him in two with his bare hands.

He was stopped by Faramir, a strong pull of his arms and Aragorn felt his body twisted to face his face his friend. "No Sire, he'll bear no more strain" he hissed cocking his head in the direction of the still form far above them "we can do nothing but wait this out" he said curtly through clenched teeth. Aragorn's eyes grew hard and narrowed to dagger like points as he nodded and tuned to the messenger "If he is harmed further, there will be no place in Middle Earth for you to hide....I will make it my life to hunt you." The King growled as he tossed the first bag of gold coin to Mendal. The messenger from the quarry laughed "e's had 'es share of harm already, 'e's not a screamer, I'll give 'em that.....and yet, there's some, like meself who'd give plenty fer the chance ta find a way ta make him voice his pleasures" Mendal laughed with a lascivious gleam in his heavily lidded eyes. Aragorn's clenched fists loosened and one began to reach for his dagger....."there t'aint much left 'o him now...but we'll leave ya what's left" Mendal continued with a sickening gleam in his eye as he hoisted himself to his saddle and cantered slowly from the King's camp.

Qurag picked his way carefully through the rock strewn landscape, his toughened feet feeling the heat of the sharp rocks as they made their way across the barren desert. He looked with worry upon the sun reddened face of the child in his arms. The sun haired one was suffering from the heat and the strain of near two days without water was beginning to tell. The Orc growled his displeasure as he noted the dryness of her skin and the lethargy with which she had carried herself over the past few miles. A quick eye to the Hobbit that Durzak bore and Qurag could see that soon they would have nothing living to bear. He looked up to the sky, the sun was nearing it's apex in the cloudless expanse above him, shade was becoming more difficult to find. They trotted on a few more moments before Qurag spotted a trio of scrub bushes that with careful arranging of their cargo, would serve well his needs. He grunted several series of short syllables and tilted his head in the desired direction for emphasis.

Durzak acquiesced to his leader's commands and moved Frodo to a spot beneath the brush. Soon the Hobbit and his Princess were laid, one lightly sleeping, the other dangerously unconscious beneath the scanty shelter of the brush. Qurag looked intensely to the eye of his Orc companion "water we have, or they die" he said, his voice sounding strident and harsh in the echos of the vast desert. Durzak nodded but remained squatting on his haunches...even as he had when they'd first arrived. The larger Orc, accustomed as he was to deprivation and torment, was not showing the effects of their trek. Qurag quickly sorted through his choices, leave Durzak with the ringbearer and the girl child and go for water himself, or send Durzak. A sudden gasp of air and gagging noise from behind him caused him to look to the spot where the others lay.

Frodo was leaning up on one elbow, his other arm gently supporting Rosetta's quivering shoulders as her body shook from the force of her illness. She cried weakly and coughed as a vile liquid was expelled from her body. "Shh Princess, shh...just let it all out lass...there you go." Frodo murmured gently as Rosetta's breathing evened out and her vomiting ceased. Qurag approached and examined the weakly sniffling child now burying herself in the crook of the ringbearer's arm. Her sun colored curls were snarled and plastered with sweat to her head, her face reddened from the sun and her eyes opened only as tiny slits against the dark shadows beneath them. "She 'tis burning up Qurag." Frodo said softly his wide blue eyes mirroring the fear that lurked in his words. He soothed his Princess to sleep with some softly sung elven lullabies and with a grimace of pain disentangled her from his arms and struggled to sit up. Qurag reached to help and felt the fragile thinness of the ringbearer's arms through his tunic, "too thin" the Orc thought "must have food soon." With a grateful smile Frodo accepted Qurag's assistance and sat up weakly, holding his side in pain and trying to stifle his need to cough. He ran his hand idly through the matted curls lying beside him "she will die without help Qurag...you must leave me and go, you will travel faster without me as a burden." Qurag frowned and shook his head 'no' saying "not time yet, life is here still for you." Frodo smiled sadly as he continued to run his dirt encrusted and work roughened hands through his Princess's curls "yes, life is still here....and this life must continue Qurag." Frodo paused and looked from Rosetta to the Orc "she must live, she is the future of the world of men, and I am but a part of the passing of the worlds evils" he whispered sadly. Qurag saw the despair in the Hobbit's eyes and felt a strength of purpose come to him "not yet your time" the Orc growled curtly.

The Orc grunted a command to Durzak and the larger Orc shuffled over to where the others sat. "Durzak go, he take sun haired one to your King." Qurag said as Durzak stooped to take Rosetta from Frodo's gentle grip. Frodo's eyes widened in recognition of the fact that he'd likely not see his Princess again and he bestowed a quick kiss upon her curls as Durzak slowly straightened. Qurag grunted a few more sounds and Durzak gently adjusted Rosetta in his arms, the scarred and pitted face of the Orc looked to Qurag and then to Frodo as he said in a harsh raspy voice "I take care sun child". Frodo sighed, his eyes filled with tears "I know Durzak, I know...." Frodo felt his heart breaking and he was tired, he felt empty of anything but pain and weariness and he feared that without his Princess by his side, he'd soon give in to his deepest fears and desires. He sighed and said knowingly "head to the river, Anborn boasted of his plan to sail away with the treasures of Gondor...I know not where, but they have planned to travel by water...and that is where the King will be". The Hobbit, suddenly exhausted felt the arm he was leaning on begin to shake and Qurag grasped him gently by the shoulders and lowered him to the ground. Frodo covered his eyes with one trembling arm, refusing to see the figures of Durzak and his Princess fading into the distance.

Sam awoke to a cold sweat and pounding headache. His mouth was dry and his eyes gritty, he felt as if his sleep had brought not rest, but deeper fatigue and worry. He sighed and rubbed his dusty sleeve across his eyes, his dreams had been worse than ever and he knew he'd need to seek a way to find his Mr. Frodo soon for his dreams and images were more than his heart could bear. He stood and stretched, the stiffness in his neck slowly abating as he worked out the kinks. Looking up to the night sky above he was lost in the vision of the stars above and he said a prayer to the lady 'please protect 'em lady...he's done naught but good fer this world...he deserves his reward, but just seein' him again would set jest right with me...and if you were ta grant me this...well, I'd see to it that I didn't ask ya fer no more".

As Sam stood, leaning against a giant spruce, it's irregular and rough bark digging into his back, he heard a scraping sound. Just a small noise at first, one he dismissed as wind or the rustling of leaves, but the sound grew steadier and louder and he looked about him wondering where and what that was. His eyes frantically looked about, darting from tree to bush to rocky outcropping until in a crevice of the ridge, the earth began to shift. Sam moved closer and watched as the earth shook and finally the point of a small shovel appeared. Sam watched in awe as the shovel's point grew and more dirt was moved aside. Within a minute the shovel was all the way out and the person wielding it saw fit to push through the remaining dirt and reach a filthy hand to help push the remaining soil out of the way. One hand became two and soon a head of lank reddish brown hair, coated with dirt and pebbles and twisted into some semblance of a braid, was pushing through. Sam found himself staring at his feet to the twinkling green eyes of a wee lass "Good day to ya master Hobbit" she said with a grin. Sam, caught off his guard continued to stare as the lass started to squeeze herself from the hole. With several twists and a few grunting noises to accompany her efforts she was soon standing beside Sam and extended her hand "I'm Mela master Hobbit....and from Ada's stories you must be his Sam."


	31. chapter 31: Luring

Faces of War

Chapter 31: Luring

Disclaimer: The characters and premise for this story belong to J.R.R. Tolkien....a man of many talents!

Sorry for the delay...end of the school year is a very busy time for teachers....but all work and no play makes even teachers a little bit dull...so we're back!

endymion2....Frodo is not in very good shape....and the ruffians are soon to be at it again it would seem...but our own Mr. Baggins has friends and supporters in many places....who do you think should reach him first...Sam or Aragorn? I have written and re-written these chapters....but am always open to suggestions!

Shire Baggins...Poor Garth...yet another pawn in Anborns evil games....Frodo senses that Rosetta is a key part of the future of the world...he will do all he can to see her time is made to be valuable...even if his remaining time is diminished....the evil men will be caught...but you may be surprised by by just who is considered evil later in the story!

Elanorelle....Oops... didn't mean to confuse you...Mela is another orphan...briefly introduced in chapter 29...she is the small "plucky" one that Galen sends up the tunnel to investigate the damage from the blast...I felt badly that Rosetta had to be separated from Frodo...but I need our ailing Hobbit to focus on larger questions of good/evil with Qurag....and he needs to not have to worry about her for a little while....I agree...if more people were looking for the greater good...we would all be much better off!

Sam came to his senses with a quick shake of his head and he put out his hand to the man child lass beside him "Samwise Gamgee, at yer service miss Mela" he said stiffly. His head was reeling, he looked deep to the depths of the green eyes before him, she knew him, his eyes confirmed that, yes indeed, this wee lass before him knew his master. He looked her over a moment, scratched and bruised she was and as dirt caked as a pig in muck on market day, but she was sturdy and her bearing was one of confidence and strength. He watched as she brushed some of the dust from her ragged skirt "how is it ye know of me miss?" his voice sounded harsh in the silence of the woods.

She shook more dirt from her loosened braid "Ada told us" she said lightly " he told us of you and master Merry and and even of the pranks of Little Pippin." Mela looked a little saddened by her next words "he told us many tales Master Sam, tales of hope, heros and the glories of long ago, tales of elves, men and hobbit...but he did not tell us what ta do if he were taken from us...so me and the others, well, we need ta find him again...we need our Ada ta help us find our way home. Can you help us to find him?" she asked hopefully, the overly mature nature of her words suddenly overcome by a voice filled with child like longing. Sam stood stock still, lost in his imaginings of Frodo as storyteller, recalling the hours spent wrapped in the spells of wonder his tales often cast. He looked to the girl beside him, she was near to his height and he imagined this one ta be a lass not more'n 8 or 10 summers, he was touched by her sincerity. "Aye, I'll help ya, for that is my only purpose as well youngin'." he paused in his words as Mela smiled broadly at him and then she turned to shout into the opening "I'm out Kylos, send up Gerta and Hanford...then start with the rest of 'em". Sam watched as Mela turned back to him but a moment and he asked "how many of ya are there then?" Mela cocked her head to one side and her lips twitched in a barely suppressed smile as she noted with amusement the concern in Sam's voice. "Oh, not ta worry Master Sam, there are no more'in thirty of us left...some " she paused and searched for the right words "some of us were separated and can't find our way from this tunnel."

Gerta and Hanford were quickly followed by Ansel, Tomel, Kenis and Jory. As each Orphan crawled from the opening, they, using their best manners extended their hands and introduced themselves to Sam. The bewildered Hobbit was soon lost in a swirl of names as he met the orphans. Grendal, Hanna, Erstrad, Moreland....Portrel, Norstrand, Jergan and Yerta, the names and faces kept on coming. Blond haired, red haired, black and brown haired, they kept coming one after another from the hole to solemnly shake his hand and to whisper their words of greeting and homage. Until finally, there were near to twenty five children clustered about him. He shook his head in amazement, each had seemed to know so much of him, their words of warmth and their love of his master had shaken him and he felt his legs trembling. The last of the Orphans seemed to be coming from the hole and Sam found himself face to face with a serious brown haired lad who introduced himself as Kylos. Sam saw a lad of quiet strength and restrained emotions, a serious face, one that had seen too much and laughed too little...his face reminded the Hobbit of another moment in time, another introduction to one whose spirit was far to aged for his youthful body. " 'Tis pleased I am ta meet ya lad, I...I am mighty grateful fer all ya tried ta do for my Master...I'll not be forgetting yer kindnesses" Sam said as he reached his sturdy hand to shake the lad's dust encrusted and chapped fingers in his. "You are all that Ada described" Kylos said, with wonder in his voice "you are warmth and goodness, with the steadiness of good sense and a kind heart...or at least that is how Ada described you." Sam found himself blushing at the glowing praise these children seemed bound to dispense.

"Why is it yer calling Mr. Frodo Ada?" Sam asked and then continued "and why is it yer knowin' so much about me and my ways?". Kylos smiled as he turned to quickly offer a helping hand to yet another child emerging from the hole, "Ada, or Sir Frodo as my sister called him, spoke to us of you, his tales of friendship and the warmth you held for all livin' thing were a comfort to 'em, we heard a lot of Sam and Frodo tales durin' the long dark and scary nights," Kylos sighed, a far away look in his sad eyes..." tales of your youth and times spent learning the ways of the elves with Master Bilbo." Kylos paused a moment " although it twas always night seemingly in the caves...and, ...well" the lad paused a moment, brought back to a lighter memory or so it seemed to Sam "his words gave us strength and his teachings gave us confidence...we, we have all of us been without either mother or father and his way seemed to steady us so, and well, while he don't know of it, we all call him' Ada'...for even as the Lord Elrond of his tales was the father, the leader of the elves....Frodo is our leader" Kylos watched as Sam's eyes held a watery glow "he told us tales of the elves and of the making of the world, he taught us ta read some elvish and ta make choices with our thoughts and deeds that were only ta help others....he did not believe in hate" Kylos whispered at last, his voice breaking with his last words the boy reached a tentative hand to Sam's shoulder "he wouldn't let us believe in it neither...not even with all they done ta him".

Sam near to broke under the weight of the lads last words, for in his visions he'd had images of the pain and torment his master had been through. He'd been able to go on, to continue to hope with the help of the fellowship, to believe that perhaps the endless array of pictures that filled his restless mind were just the worries of his heart brought forth in fear. Now, now there was no escaping the truth, his mind had painted the picture of pain and torment that his lips could not speak of and he felt his legs weaken as his body slowly sank to the surety of the solid ground beneath him. Kylos quickly sat in front of him, squatting and looking with concern into the hazel goodness of Sam's watery gaze " you must have faith master Sam....Frodo always said we must cling to the belief that there is some good in this world, good that is worth fighting for..." Kylos paused to look awkwardly at the sandy haired Hobbit before him, his words were gentle and filled with respect and longing "he told me that those words of yours carried him through some dark times, though he never told me what those dark times were" his voice sounding sad and regretful. Sam reached to the boys shoulder and grasped it firmly "someday my lad, when we are through with this pain and uncertainty, I will tell you and all who will listen of the brave and courageous heart of my master...I will be certain that the world knows of the debt it owes Frodo Baggins" Sam said, his voice tearful and firm in it's convictions.

The group of children, who had been clustered so quietly about the rim of the hole, began to point and speak with delighted whispers as Kylos turned from Sam to see two grown up sized figures emerge frm the rubble of their self made hole. Galen got awkwardly to his feet and then turned to aid Toleman as he exited the confines of the narrow, dank passages underground. The burly guard wiped the dust from him and turning to Sam said "aye master Hobbit, it's right on time you are....now where is this King of ours?, for there is some serious digging to be done." Sam looked about him at the assembled crowd "you mean to say that there are more of ya then?' he asked in his no nonsense tone. Galen's lips twitched and his eyes grew sad " there is yet the matter of digging your master and Kylos's sister from the rubble of the blown tunnel." Sam's face was showing the shock of Galens words, "They were trapped, with their Orc guards, not a day ago...they are in there Sam, and need to be brought forth soon...or soon there will be no air to breathe."

Sam's face whitened "Orc guards?" he questioned warily. "Aye" Galen answered, "our last moments with Frodo was before he was taken by Anborn to slave for the gold brought from the second tunnel. Yer Frodo was taken ta work the fuses and build the explosives....Rosetta, she were taken ta crawl to the tiny spots and lay the charges." Galen looked uncomfortable, almost knowing what Sam's next question would be. The worried Hobbit asked, his hazel eyes boring into Galens "and the Orcs, what of them? What was their task ta be then?". Galen shook his head a moment and replied "I'm not sure exactly, but I'm guessin' that keepin' yer Mr. Frodo cooperative, threatenin' him with harm to his Princess to ensure that the needed work was done, and well I know, that as brave as Frodo tried ta be, he held real fear for them Orcs master Samwise." The burley guard, his eyes softening in understanding, said "Frodo knew they needed him, that if he told them he'd not choose his journey yet...that well, perhaps he could help the children."

Sam, a look of confusion mingling with his ever present worried frown asked "what journey do ya speak of". Galen sighed heavily, a look of quiet wonder and disbelief shadowed his unshaven face "yer Frodo was blessed with the choice given the former lords of Numenor, he's able ta choose his moment of death, and I know that worried Dalmer and Anborn...so I'm bettin' he found a way ta barter away his choice to keep the girl safe." Sam cursed his thickheadedness, he couldn't seem to be able to put any of this together, he was still unsure of what Galen's words, 'choices of Numenor' meant. Galen tried again and bending down low to look the sturdy Hobbit right in the eye whispered softly "he can chose his moment of death, he's been gifted with his time, Master Samwise, he can chose when he's ta die." Sam face lost all color and he felt his hands go cold, he was terrified for he knew the somewhat tenuous hold his Mr. Frodo sometimes seemed to have on living. His eyes filled with unshed tears and he bit his lips to keep his worries from the children clustered so hopefully about him.

He squared his shoulders bravely and with a few words of encouragement began to guide the children down to the Quarry camp. As he walked he tried to keep his eyes from falling to near the gaze of the lad named Kylos, 'that lad knows me, thanks ta yer words Mr. Frodo, that lad knows me right well, I'll need ta be careful ta keep me worries ta meself....I can see they've been through enough they have' Sam thought to himself as he led the group over the ridge and to the steep path leading to the quarry camp. Sam sighed, there was something familiar about the lad Kylos, he searched his tattered memories, wondering if this pale and strong hearted lad was part of the reason his master twasn't there right now. His thoughts turned to Frodo, his frightening visions and images of the past few nights flashed through his mind, he worried that Frodo would not have the strength to continue the unending 'chore' of living with his mistakes and would indeed chose the eternal peace that was his gift from the Valar. As he led the rag tag group of starved, ragged and dirty children to the Quarry camp he thought of his master's words "who will help the Children Sam?" he'd asked then, Sam looked with pride at the children behind and beside him, they were the keepers of his master's last stories...."I will Mr. Frodo, I will" he said under his breath as they descended into the camp.

Qurag watched the sun slowly sink behind the distant hills and then turned to the limp and sweat drenched form beside him. "Sun gone, cool now, we go." he said, his voice harsh in quality, but words gently delivered. Frodo struggled to open his eyes, it was such an effort to re-emerge from his cocoon of slumber. He panted a little in his efforts and grimaced from the pain of his hot and swollen leg as he tried to pull himself up on one elbow, then failing, laid back down in exhaustion. "Yes, now is our best chance" he whispered "I shall need your help Qurag, I cannot even sit up I am afraid, I am sorry."

Frodo trembled from his effort to sit up, he took a deep breath and looked to the dark pitted skin and tensely strung muscles of the Orc at his side. His mind was filled with images of the life led by Qurag, the toil and despair of life lived in constant terror and with the weight of unyielding demands. He shut his a eyes a moment as he gathered his strength "Why Qurag?" he whispered..."why did you do what was asked of you in the Snaga camps?" The pale Hobbit turned his gaze to the solid form beside him and waited for a glimmer of explanation, a view into the life of misery that had claimed so many. Qurag cocked his head to one side "it was my task, expected of me....to make life better." he said in a gruff voice, feeling at once that his Hobbit friend was seeking to make ill of the life given to Orcs, his voice held a ring of defensiveness. Frodo looked wide eyed to Qurag, he did not wish to make the Orc defend his past cruelties, he only wondered at the choices they had each made. Frodo laughed painfully at the irony of it all, a laugh that quickly became a painful shudder as his frame was rattled by an agonizing cough. "Expected of us....yes...there has been much expected of those on both sides...." Frodo said quietly "yet, when shall we do the 'good' for others that is expected of us? When shall we see the good that suits the people of our world...the kind deeds that all deserve...when shall we have the heart to show compassion?" Frodo grimaced in pain as his lengthy speech left him coughing and holding his ribs to hold back this latest hurt.

The Orc looked with something akin to pity at the failing form of the ringbearer, he sensed the weakening spirit, the drive of life slowly ebbing from the dusty, thin form beside him. "We go now, find water, find King" the Orc said and he carefully leaned over and hoisted the frail body into his arms, careful to cradle the infected swollen leg beside his body for support. Frodo's head lolled weakly against the massive dark skin of his protector. Qurag could feel the fever that was once again rising to consume the consciousness of the ringbearer, he was running out of time and worried that his choice to allow the Hobbit to rest had been a folly that would cost the ringbearer his life. He looked down to the faded and pain filled eyes that lit the wan face beneath his gaze, he must hurry.

Anborn looked about him, an ugly sneer of contempt upon his lips, he would not be caught, never again would he pay for his cruelty towards those less than himself. He had decided long ago that he'd take his share and seek his fortune, family ties be damned, he would take all that life owed him. His brother had chosen to align himself with these loathsome and desperate men. 'I shall not share the fate of such lowly creatures' he sneered to himself as he tied the last of the gold pouches to his saddle, 'I shall take all that's mine and find my reward'. With a last scornful look about the myriad of men sleeping throughout the makeshift camp, he signaled to Mendal and Thad to follow as he sat himself upon his steed and then, wheeling fast upon his mount, he rode silently off into the deepening night, sparing no thoughts of love nor compassion for the brother he knew to be sitting in the path of the King's slowly encroaching assault.. "I've all the gold I can carry, it tis up to Dalmer to find his own path" he thought as he rode off, his skulking form soon swallowed up by the cover of the dark night.


	32. chapter 32: Remembering

Faces of War

Chapter 32: Remembering

Disclaimer: The characters and ideas from this story are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien, a man blessed with a truly engaging imagination....

This story will portray a character not seen since Gift of the Valar, a previous story.... may be helpful to read this story to make this chapter more meaningful and fun! Gift of the Valar is located right here on with a PG13 rating....it's about Frodo's early years with Bilbo....

Endymion2 sounds like you've had a "run in" or two yourself with despair! Frodo is resigned to his own fate and cares only that there is a life for the children....of course there are many who see a different future for the ringbearer! It will be a race against time to see who gets to shape the future of our despairing hobbit!

Iorhael ...Oh...Frodo will get all manner of attention in the chapters to come....but he will find the strength...his own or others...to help him through the darkest of times....

Shire Baggins....Frodo is nearing the end of his strength...he will undoubtedly receive just enough help to see him through to the darkest of possible endings....and who will be the one to find him first? Will Sam find his dear master? Will the King save the savior of his Kingdom? Will the evil of men still reign? Keep reading!

The men of the King's guard waited, the strength of their resolve matched by the fierceness with which they gripped their weapons. A thought, a wish, a collective longing filled the air...tonight, tonight they would have their revenge.

Aragorn waited, his tightly clenched jaw the only visible evidence of his inner unrest, he scanned the furthest hill awaiting the report of his scouts. He paced to the vantage point from which he'd spent much of the day, the spot from which he could see the unconscious form of the ringbearer. He'd watched the forlorn stillness of Frodo's body through the early morning coolness, through the relentless heat of the afternoon and into the dampness rising from the early evening. He'd watched and he'd waited, with every minute, with every glance and thought of his friend's suffering, he'd grown to hate with unyielding purpose, those who dared to bring harm to the Hobbit whose deeds had brought peace to all of Middle Earth. His painful hours of watching were nearly at an end, all he waited on now was word from his far scouts that Dalmer's camp was on the move. It soon would be his time to bring fear to the hearts of those who had brought such evil to one he loved, he would ensure that their payment for this offence would be just, but harsh. There was no room for mercy he decided, not when there were still men of such evil abounding in his Kingdom.

Sam had spent the day digging, the news from Galen had set the elves and the hobbits into a frenzy of activity. He looked up occasionally from his task to see the dust streaked countenance and grim expression of Merry or the red eyed and grief filled looks of Pippin, but he did not pause for long. He dug and scraped and moved rocks until his hands were a mass of weeping blisters and his back muscles screamed for rest. He vowed he would not rest, he felt that time was running out for his master and he allowed no thought of his own discomfort to penetrate as he pushed his mind and body to one single goal, moving dirt, sand and rock he worked only to find his master. Sam pushed himself until he was dizzy from lack of rest and his need for water, throughout the long hot afternoon he doggedly refused any attempt to sway him from his task until a voice at his side caught his attention.

"Master Hobbit, 'tis sick ye'll be making yerself with no rest....will ya not let one 'o the youngins ta spell ya a bit?" The burley blond haired guard asked quietly, leaning upon his own shovel. Sam did not even look up from his frantic attack upon the mounds of debris at his feet "there's a job ta be done here and I'll not rest 'till I can see with me own eyes that Mr. Frodo is freed....thanks fer yer offer Galen, but I'd be needin ta tend to this task, not to my own self." Sam grunted as his shovel hit a particularly hard section, the jarring motion of the shovel's handle ripping into his already abraded palms, he swore under his breath as a sudden tear came to his eye. Sam paused and panted to breathe his way through his newest hurt and felt the shovel taken gently from him as large work roughened hands guided him to sit on a nearby rock. Sam hung his head in defeat, his shoulders slumped and knees drawn up to his chest, he covered his face with his torn and bloodied hands and wept.

Galen motioned to one of the larger orphan boys to come and take Sam's place and gestured to Kylos to take several more lads to where Merry and Pippin continued to dig with what remained of their faltering strength. Soon Kilos returned with an equally exhausted pair of hobbits and motioned for Merry and Pippin to sit near to Sam. Wordlessly Merry accepted a cup of water while Pippin sidled up to Sam and wrapped his dusty arms about his friend. The three of them huddled a moment in their grief and Galen watched as the three friends drew comfort from one another. When Sam's sobs had been stilled and Merry had managed to get his friends to drink, Galen began, his man sized voice was surprisingly soft and the hobbits had to focus their full attention upon him to make out his words.

"Your Frodo 'tis truly one of the strongest lads I've every met, he'll fight his way through this...you have ta believe that." The guard paused and looked towards Kilos a moment, the wiry lad gave a sad smile in acknowledgment of Galen's words. Galen knelt down to be on the same level as the hobbits and Kylos sat down next to him as Galen continued "Frodo asked me ta help these children, he said that all that mattered was the life they would lead...and while I know ya think there's no hope, well Frodo would not let a one of us give up until these here young ones were safe...and he told me he'd not give up neither, not till he was assured that they'd be taken care of." Sam looked up from where he'd been studiously looking at his fists clenched in his lap "he's been hurt bad Galen, ye've not said it with yer words, but I know he's sufferin, I...I've seen him in me dreams....and I'm scared that he's close to despair...I know my Mr. Frodo, and when he says he's gonna do somethin', well he's about as stubborn as a Baggins can be....but..." Sam's voice dropped to a shaky whisper and Pippin reached to rub his friend's trembling shoulder "he's been endurin' more than a body ought ta bear, and his body tain't as strong as his mind at times...he's runnin' outta time....I jest know he'll be gone from us all in a matter of days if we can't get ta him soon." Sam's watery gaze held Galen's and the man nodded. "Aye, he's been hurt Sam....but what was it he was tellin' the Princess Kylos?" Galen paused waiting for Kylos to answer. Kylos had gone pale at the mention of his sister, but after a slight hesitation he answered quietly and with determination "that the bad men can only hurt ya on the outside, that no one can hurt ya on the inside if ya don't let 'em...and he believed it too Master Sam...he believed it and he made us believe it too....we'll find him, we'll find him and my sister" Kylos' eyes grew hard and angry "we'll find 'em...and we'll make yer Mr. Frodo well again, you'll see....Frodo tain't the only one about here that's stubborn."

After their talk with the guard and Kylos, Sam was still not convinced. He watched as the Orphan children rotated turns with the shovels, he allowed himself to be persuaded to rest, even managed a smile when Merry and Pippin's natural optimism surfaced as they bantered back and forth to one another, but he was still worried. He set about gathering the items needed for the evening meal, preferring to make himself useful, he took a break from the digging and mindlessly began to peel the taters and skin the coney's they'd need for supper. As his hands were busy, his mind was was racing, there was something....something that did not set well with him about their predicament, his evening visions did not seem to match up somehow with the events of the day and his unease grew as the daylight hours faded into evening.

Durzak stumbled in his weariness, his arms tightened reflexively about the small bundle in his arms, the girl child must be saved, Qurag had ordered it. The daylight hours faded into the softly hued colors of evening, but Durzak paid no heed to the pastel magnificence of the setting sun, he only felt relief that a whisper of a breeze seemed to be caressing his dark scarred skin. He looked to the unconscious bundle in his arms, she'd not opened her eyes for several hours and he was becoming desperate to find help. He stopped a moment to take in his surroundings, the dusty trails of the desert were slowly showing signs of growth, small bunches of scrub grass and hardy dwarf pines could be seen and in the distance the outline of taller pines were just becoming visible. He grunted his displeasure at the slowness of his pace and he continued on, toward the trees, towards signs of life and the hope that water would soon be found. He trudged on, the breeze he'd noted was becoming cooler and the air seemed flavored with a hint of moisture; he quickened his pace with the hope that nearer the stand of distant trees a body of water would be found.

Aragorn felt as if time was standing still, so badly did he wish to go to Frodo's rescue that he could nearly feel the satisfaction of the pain he would soon mete out to those responsible for his friend's imprisonment. His eyes never left the far distant figure hanging, strung between two far off trees, he was alert to any change or perceived movement in the limp form on the far hill, but there was no movement to track, no hope perhaps even of life in the quiet body displayed before him. He felt a sudden panic arise within him, what if it was too late? What if he'd erred in not being more aggressive in his reclaiming of the Ringbearer? What if Frodo was already beyond the realm of this world? He was just about to signal his men to ride forth at any cost when a curt whistle signaled the arrival of an incoming scout. This was it, the news he had awaited and he clenched his fist even as his other hand reached to the hilt of his sword, Dalmer and his ruffians would pay a hefty price for their misdeeds. He strode forward to meet the fast approaching scout.

"Sire" the soldier said, even as he pulled his horse to a stop both man and beast were sweat soaked from their hard ride, "sire, there is news of two figures approaching the camp..." The soldier paused to catch his breath and Aragorn raised a hand to signal that the soldier should calm himself before continuing. The soldier tried again "Sire, there is an Orc approaching and he carries with him the body of a small girl child." Aragorn was suddenly aware of others by his side, Faramir and Terren, with Rumeil at his side, had approached at the sound of the rapidly galloping horseman. Aragorn could see the elderly healers face pale in the waning light of the day and he turned to question the rider "How old would you guess the child to be?" he asked brusquely. The soldier looked to his King, eyes filled with pity "she looks to be no more than four or five summers my my King."

Faramir sprung into action and gestured to the guards now present to come closer "mount up" he called and added "bring three horses and the bag belonging to the healer." Horses were brought within moments and Aragorn pulled Rumeil up before him on Brego as Faramir and Terren readied themselves to ride out. The King could feel the slender child before him trembling in his fear "she will be saved Rumeil, you have my promise" he whispered as they rode from the camp into the early evening shadows to find the lone Orc and his precious cargo.

Qurag's eyes scanned the horizon, his eyes took in the same bleak scenery he'd been seeing for the last hour, dust, rock and dry brush. He looked to the ringbearer, his skin was dry and reddened from his hours in the sun, his head lolled back and bumped gently into the crook of Qurag's arm. The Orc noted that Frodo's form was still and had been limply quiet for the last few miles of travel, he tried to rouse him " wake, wake little one, wake....we talk now" he said gruffly as he stopped and set the bundle in his arms carefully down in the cool shadow of a large boulder. "Wake now, we talk" Qurag insisted again with a gentle shake of Frodo's shoulder. Frodo moaned and struggled to wake himself, his eyes flickered open briefly and he could see the shadowy outline of dark and pitted skin, a fierce some face and sharp teeth highlighted in the fading light. The Hobbit smiled softly at the face coming into focus, a face which in days past would have haunted his dreams and had now become in ways he could not explain, dear to him.

The Orc looked into the majestic blueness of the Hobbit's eyes and wondered how he'd been so ready to fill himself with hate for the children of men, how he'd been prepared to see only the differences between them. He felt a twinge of pain in his heart, his Snaga mother had held him, often trapped in a gaze this blue and this haunting, in her arms as she'd sung to him, told stories to him, loved him. His days with her as an Orcling had been all to short, he'd been deemed ready for his tasks while a mere youth of less than 10 summers, but he'd made certain that his rounds took him frequently to her cell, not wanting to lose her touch, not able to make the cruelty of his days fill the gap left by her warmth. He would be true to her memory, he would find a way to save the magic of this blue eyed storyteller, as he'd been unable to save the magic of his mother.

Frodo felt his his tenuous grip on his consciousness slipping in and out of his grasp, he took a deep breath and steadied himself as he fought to stay awake and fight back the waves of fatigue that waited to engulf him. "Qurag" he whispered "we are close to the river, I can feel it in the air" he coughed, a dry hacking cough that brought only pain and no relief. As his cough slowly faded he spoke again "the air 'tis slowly cooling, it carries a hint of water, I can feel it" he closed his eyes a moment and continued. "We musn't stop for long my friend, I fear that there is evil about us." Frodo reached to Qurag's hand, frail and slender fingers entwining themselves weakly amongst the darkened and seemingly clawed hand of his protector, he pulled the hand to his chest and placed it upon his heart "you are a friend of goodness Qurag, I feel it here" Frodo paused as he thumped their clasped hands upon his chest. Qurag grunted his assent and waited for the Hobbit to continue. Frodo swallowed weakly and licked his chapped and torn lips "If it goes ill with me, for soon I will come to my end of days Qurag, you, you must see this through...you must save yourself, see to the children and find a life, a home that allows you your choices....choose my friend, choose to do what is right, what you feel to be good...here" Frodo's last words were whispered as he held their entwined hands to his friends heart. Qurag felt his eyes suddenly become moistened, a strange wetness was upon his cheek and he nodded abruptly for he found suddenly he had no words to answer the heart of this creature beside him. Frodo smiled weakly and whispered "I shall rest, let me sleep for an hour my friend, no more....just..a ..little..rest" he mumbled with great effort as he dropped off once more. The Orc positioned himself next to the Hobbit, leaning back against a large boulder, he closed his weary eyes and waited.

In his fevered dreams Frodo heard singing, softly phrased words uttered with a melodic cadence that wove softly through his unsettled mind and brought a pang of bittersweet joy to his aching heart.

_ "Pilgrim how you journey,_

_ On the road you choose"_

The words of the softly sung melody seemed familiar in some way and as Frodo dreamed his mind was opened and his body was of a sudden transported to a soothing grassy meadow, a cooling breeze danced upon his skin and he found his feet entangled in the damp grasses of a riverbank path. He walked along the path, wet meadow grasses whipping against his calves as he made his way to a familiar clearing. The peace and gentle rhythm of his dream was a haven for his ailing body and he relaxed into it's all encompassing spell of rejuvenation and its quiet reminders of moments gone by. He found himself looking upon a large willow tree, it's sinuous branches tickling the ground as fingers dancing upon a keyboard. He looked for the voice of the singer, knowing with certainty that the voice behind the gently sung tune, was somehow present in this corner of his dream.

A silken mist seemed to flit about him, the sun's rays, cast between the tentacles of willow branches, shone in rivulets of sparkling luminescence. He followed the trail of softly sung words

_ "To find out where the winds die"_

A shift in the breeze and there she was, the parting of the Willow's leafy curtain revealed fiery Amber and tawny gold curls, the promise of soft pink lips and the brilliance of emerald green as she turned to him. His heart wrenched in agonizing pain, he had forgotten the abruptness of her beauty and his tortured memories sought to lock her away once more. He clenched his eyes closed and willed her vision to leave him, as he tried in vain to shut the door on that corner of his heart left untouched, to shelter her from the obscene intrusion of the Ring and Sauron's evil mind games. Was this but another image wrought from the insidious evil he'd fought? But no, her song continued...

_ "And where the stories go...." _

He felt tears come to his eyes as he looked fully upon her "Chrys" he whispered thickly "I've missed you so". He stepped closer and his tear filled eyes beheld the changes that time had brought to his beloved. Her rich gold and Amber hued curls were tarnished with fine lines of silver, her fine boned face was etched with lines of mirth and care. "Ye've been far to busy savin' the world Frodo Baggins ta be thinkin 'o the likes of me I'd warrent." she said with a quiet laugh. He stepped closer still, his fists clenched in the agony of his honesty "I've missed you every moment....wanted you with all that I was, and locked you away to be my private sanctuary in my times of greatest need" he whispered brokenly.

"Have ye now? Then why is I can bring ye no peace now? I promised ya light Frodo Baggins, I promised ta be yer light in this world.... or" she paused as her sharp green eyes bore into him "...any other. Did ye not care ta remember that, our promise ta one another, our promise of betrothal?" she asked, her voice becoming harsh in it's pain. He took one more step forward, bewildered and hurt he replied "You've not been witness Chrys, you've not witnessed all that I've seen, all the pain, all the ruin I have brought down upon my friends...all that I have left to me now" his face paled and he felt the anger drain from him "you've not seen the cruel ways of the world...how can you judge my thoughts?" He finished quietly, the despair and conflict in his soul apparent in each softly spoken word.

She tilted her head to one side and shook her head with gentle resignation. "Frodo my Love, I have longed so to be with you...to guide you on your path....but you must understand, I was not permitted." She reached a quiet hand upwards, straining to touch him "It was not allowed, your path has not been clear to me...nor to others here...all I can do is hope that you will soon choose the right path for both if us...do not give up my love, do not give in to the darkest of times when you still have so much to see and say and do to help those not yet strong...do not give up on the children Frodo, for they are the future we might have had together." He saw that her brilliance was fading, the warmth of her curls and the green of her eyes was dimming and he could see that in his fevered dreams, he was losing once more that which he held most dear.

"No" he moaned "no, don't go Chrys" his words burst forth from him "don't leave me Chrys" he moaned as he rocked his head from side to side. She was fading and in his last look upon her he noted the twisted angle in which she sat and the way in which she fingered the intricately carved staff by her side. "No" the words burst from him louder as her beauty was nearly lost to him once more and as she faded entirely from his sight he sat up abruptly and shouted his despair as a pain wrought echo from the stars above "noooooo" he yelled, before he collapsed once more to the dusty ground beneath him "no" he whispered as a trail of silvery tears was suddenly noted upon his face.

Qurag had woken, from his own upright slumber, to the sound of the Hobbit's voice. He bent quickly over the fevered form of the frail fiqure beside him and noted the rapid breathing and tear stained face. He frowned at the pure heart wrenching pain he saw before him, the features of the Ringbearer were fixed to reflect his past despondency and his still tearing eyes and ragged breaths spoke of his inner agony. Qurag was just reaching to take Frodo in his arms, to attempt to use his own body to sooth the slender hobbit from his nightmare of pain, as he'd seen Frodo do for his princess, when he was abruptly halted in his movement. The cruel bite of a tight leather cord wrapping about his upper arms and the blow of a club upon his head rendered him motionless as he heard the husky laugh of a man. He tried in vain to shake off the tight restraint upon his arms as the cool bite of steel at his throat alerted him to the sharpened presence of a finely honed weapon of persuasion. He continued to struggle against the leather thong about his arms as the club fell once more upon his head and he felt his senses begin to slip as his sight grew blurry and blood flowed from his scalp into his eyes. He growled his displeasure and made to gain his feet as he heard the painful gasp and quiet voice of his companion. Turning from his focus upon his efforts to free himself, he looked to see the Ringbearer grabbed roughly by the neck and imprisoned against the broad chest of Anborn.

Lyrics from Enya's CD "A day Without Rain"


	33. chapter 33: Rescuing

Faces of War

Chapter 33: Rescuing

Disclaimer: Alas, these lovely characters are not mine...they are but a portion of the genius that lurked in the mind of JRR Tolkien...bless his soul!

Many thanks to the faithful reviewers...and the occasional comments of the periodic "rogue" readers....I have somehow or another amassed the rather startling number of 100 reviews...many, many thanks for making this exercise of mind and heart so rewarding!

Iorhael....thanks for hanging in there...it's been a tough summer, not as much time to write as I'd hoped....I am positively loving your latest updates...keep it up! Yes, Frodo's feverish mind is wandering to memories he swore he'd never again open....but is it only in his mind?

Shire Baggins...Something is telling Sam quite a lot actually...he'll "learn" more in the next few chapters...You shall see that the generations of hate that governed the relations of men and Orcs will be difficult to overcome....The boy whom Aragorn believes to be Frodo will have a part to play later...Aragorn is suffering from many emotions now...fear, guilt, hatred....Frodo's fevered mind is a blessing really...it is allowing him to "weaken" his resolve, to let a glimmer of past lives and loves enter, a "chink" in his defenses is opening...but where will it lead? Thanks for the nice review....it is so much fun to write, and the mere thought that my ramblings are amusing to another is gratifying beyond belief....

BraellyraLeatherleaf....now that is an interesting pen name....were you once upon a time known as "noonespecial"? ( If so, I beg to differ....)....wow, thanks for the thoughtful and kind review...and bless you for being the 100th reviewer....I'd like to say you win a prize...but...the only prize I can offer is another chapter! I'm afraid that our noble hobbit is not out of danger yet...and yes, Chrys' appearance was a rejuvenating influence of sorts for Frodo....in his dreams he can allow himself the luxury of "spending time" with his lost love....will he "see" her again? You'll find out! Thanks for the very kind review....I hope you'll keep reading...there are so many great stories out there, I know that it can be difficult to choose which ones to "stick" with!

_Heat_, he could almost feel the heat of the bruised and sun reddened cheeks, the skin dry and coated with a layer of grime. He longed to reach out and wipe the dirt from those cheeks, to brush the lank curls from the bruised forehead and coax the chapped lips open with a dipper of sweet water. His eyes traveled the length of the inert form beside him, clothes torn and bloodied, chest rising awkwardly as each breath brought both agony and relief, for at least these shuddering breaths spoke still of life, a spark yet alight in a body so broken. The forlorn body shifted ever so slightly and he leaned over, not wanting to lose this chance, needing to hear the voice he so longed for, he leaned still closer. Wide blue eyes, a gaze devoid of hope, a look of bleak despair and endless doubt met his."_Save them Sam...give them hope....my time is nearly at an end_" the voice rasped brokenly as the eyes sent their last heartfelt message and slowly closed. He looked in shock as the torn garments, rent and stained, slowly ceased to rise and fall as the frail chest gave up it's struggle and the fight for life sustaining air was lost. He lifted his head, rocked back on his heels and clenched his fists in anger as his eyes looked to the distant river vista he felt a scream rise from the depths of his pain "Frodo...nooooo!".

Sam woke shuddering with fear, his blankets drenched in the sweat of his terror. He lifted a shaky hand to his cheek and felt the tears that were the aftermath of this dream. It took a few moments for him to master his ragged breathing and he leaned up upon one elbow to see that his night terrors had not woken the others. He clenched his lips tightly and collapsed back to his bedroll, 'twas a bad one that was' he thought to himself and he knew he'd not find any more rest so he gently unencumbered himself from the tangle of hobbits beside him and walked on stealthy feet to the picket line the horses were tied to. As he walked he noted the shadowy shape of several Elven guards as they conversed softly by the faint glow of the cloud shrouded moon. This last dream, it was much like all the others he'd had, each night's terror brought him one step closer he felt, one image further than the one before.

He tried to recall the details of the dream, not the pain and suffering on his masters face, no, those he knew of already in his heart. As he neared the perimeter of the camp he heard the soft whinny of Bill and he hastened to the side of his four footed companion. As he leaned his head to the coarse fur of Bill's mane, his hand absently scratched the warmth and twitching softness of the pony's ears. He closed his eyes, putting himself once more back in the agony of his dream and in his mind's eye he could see it, the river...the endless shimmering highway of water that stretched across the lands of Gondor. His head shot up and he looked frantically about him at the thirty some odd sleeping orphans, the array of Elves and the bedrolls of Merry, Pippin and Gimli and he knew. He knew they'd never let him go, knew that by the time they'd all been convinced and started on their way it would be too late. He took a deep breath and crept silently, as only a hobbit could, through the camp as he carefully gathered what he would need. With his supplies carefully chosen and stowed in his pack he gathered Bills Reins and walked the sturdy pony out of view of the sentries and clambered upon his back. "It's right I am at this Mr. Frodo, I'm coming sir, your Sam's coming." he said as he rode off through the moonlight hours of the night to find what his heart so desired.

Aragorn's worst fears were about to be revealed and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he spied the swarthy Orc cradling the body of the little girl in his arms. He signaled to Faramir and three of his guards to circle around and watched as the riders cut a long path around the stumbling figure in the distance. Aragorn gave Rumeil a quick squeeze to reassure the frightened lad "at ease Rumeil, we shall soon have Rosetta safe" he whispered as he slowed Brego to a cantor. The Orc, suddenly aware of the presence of the riders froze in his tracks and awaited their confrontation. Aragorn watched as Faramir motioned for his men to surround the muscled Orc and with swords drawn they walked their horses ever closer to the dark skinned creature they'd learned to hate.

Durzak's breathing was halting and ragged in his exhaustion, he froze in his tracks as he saw the men advancing. Every instinct in his quivering frame told him to find shelter, to seek a weapon, to defend himself and what he carried....but he remembered the words of Qurag "seek the King" he'd been told, and from the proud bearing and deference paid him by his men, he'd guessed the one approaching with the little boy to be the King. He waited, his body tensed for action even as his mind sought to gentle his impulses, he breathed deeply and he waited.

Faramir looked to his men and with swords drawn they walked their horses within five feet of the dark skinned and sneering creature before them. Faramir felt his skin crawl with the image before him: the limp body of the fair haired child nestled so casually in the grip of the long clawed hands and dark sinewy muscles of the Orc. A quick glimpse at his men showed that they were just as repulsed as he by the sharp fang like teeth and scar marked skin of the strong beast before them. Faramir raised a hand and cautioned his men to not strike until signal was given and he made motion to get down from his mount as Aragorn approached and said "remain my friend, I will inquire of this ones purpose". Faramir nodded and said without removing his vigilant gaze from the specter before him "be wary my King for I do not trust his intent." Aragorn nodded grimly and with a word of caution to Rumeil to remain seated he dismounted and handed the horses reins to the son of the Steward.

The Orc's dark and hate filled eyes gave Aragorn pause as he slowly approached, both hands up in an image of supplication and peace, yet he moved forward slowly, speaking gently, his soothing tones a contradiction of the hatred and mistrust in his heart. "Set the child down, we intend no harm, only to aid that whom you have brought us" the King said quietly, his eyes hard and intent upon the subject of his message. The Orc grunted and spun in a circle, seeing the drawn swords about him. His breaths came more rapidly and he whirled about facing first one soldier, then another as his trapped and cornered state began to tell upon his demeanor. Aragorn continued, moving ever so slowly forward, attempting to find words and motions to sooth the savage creature before him " We want only to help, lay her down here" he said gesturing slowly to the ground at his feet as he knelt and without removing his eyes from the dark skinned creature before him patting the ground.

Durzak lifted one corner of his lip in a sneer of contempt and he spun about as the swords pressed ever closer and he growled his displeasure. Aragorn, noting the increased rate of the Orc's breathing and seeing the creature's discomfort held both hands to his breast in a gesture of peace and urged once more "let us help that which you carry, she is in need of aid" he said simply. These last words struck a chord within the frightened and defensive mind of the Orc guarding Rosetta and he slowly grunted his approval as he laid out the frail body in his arms upon the dusty ground at the King's feet.

Durzak laid the fair haired child down with great reluctance, but he knew he must follow the orders of his master, so set her down he did. As Rosetta's fair curls touched the dusty ground and the Orc, with a last touch of compassion and a look of regret lay the child ever so gently down among the heat and scrub of the near barren landscape, Faramir's men sprang into action. Soon, a stunned and subdued Orc lay upon the same ground with a blow to his head weakening his defenses even as binds were brought to contain him. He looked to the finely dressed man before him and spat " you betray trust, not good King" and did not even struggle as his body was knocked to the ground, hands fettered and body beaten to ensure his submission. Aragorn felt a twinge of remorse as he moved quickly to recover the frail lass before him, yet forced himself to focus his thoughts upon providing aid to one who meant the most to those he loved. He hastened away from the grunts and curses of his guards as they took only moments to still the weakening anger of the betrayed Orc.

Aragorn raced to where Rumeil and Terren stood waiting to take the inert form of Rosetta into their arms. He placed the slight body of the petite child in the arms of the healer and with quick assurance that Terran would have all the help needed to ensure the child's safety, Aragorn leapt to his horse in order to pursue the welfare of the ringbearer....he knew he had little time to bring Frodo's still body to safety. Brego's powerful stride brought Aragorn ever closer to the pinnacle of the hill where the limp body of the Ringbearer could be seen hanging in the fading light of the dessert sun. The King felt a lump in his throat as his eyes saw before him the gradually enlarging image of the still Hobbit hanging between the dead trees of the hilltop, he swallowed his fear and urged his horse on with firm certainty and unwaivering strength.

Frodo watched in horror as Qurag was laid flat by the blow of Thad's blunted spear upon his head. He tried to yell out, to warn the Orc of the impending atrocity, but found his mouth covered quickly by the sweat dampened and dirt encrusted hand of Anborn. He felt his body jerked roughly towards the chest of his captor, the abrupt movement of his swollen leg causing him to arch his back and soundlessly scream in response to the agony of the motion. The heat of the setting sun, the discomfort of his fever and his ever present thirst made him queasy and for a brief span of time he felt the world spin and fought to keep a hold upon his sense of balance as dizziness made his senses reel. His blue eyes, widened by fear and accentuated by the rim of dark shadows beneath them, pleaded with the two men standing before him, all that his words could not say was plainly seen in the agony of his gaze 'spare him, do not hurt this one growing so dear to me....'. Thad and Mendal, seeing the pleading in the hobbit's eyes, delighted in kicking and hitting the fallen form of the the Orc at their feet. Anborn held the slight and limp body of the Hobbit in a death like grip, one arm clasped upon his mouth to silence his cries and the other firmly holding him about his waist.

Within seconds all chance of escape or retribution was past as Qurag's unconscious body was bound and tied firmly to a nearby tree. Frodo looked for any sign of life upon the face of his friend and seeing only the gash laid open upon his forehead and blood flowing freely down his face, began to struggle weakly against the hold of the brutal man behind him. Anborn laughed in earnest " 'tis worried for your new 'friend' is it?" he sneered and continued with his head leaning down to whisper in the hobbit's ear "I'd worry more for meself right about now.....for your future looks even darker than yer companion's". The unshaven stubble of the man's beard was pressed painfully against Frodo's fair skin as Anborn removed his hand from the Hobbit's mouth, gripping his chin instead, forced him to look to the steely hatred in the man's eyes. Frodo's eyes were trapped in the penetrating stare of the brutal man, all he could see was death and depravity emanating from the depths of his soulless gaze and he shuddered. Anborn laughed, a deep belly laugh that shook the slender form held so tightly against the man's chest and he pulled the hobbit even closer as his laughter stopped suddenly. "Scare ya do I?" he taunted "where yer goin', my affections will seem as a gentle as yer Mam's snuggle compared ta what ye'll be livin'...that is if ya live" he said, his voice menacingly low. Anborn turned to Thad and Mendal, who had leaned casually against the tree, flanking the still form of the Orc tied between them "tain't that right lads?" he asked as he allowed his hand to travel ever so slowly from his grip upon the Hobbit's waist.

Frodo's breath quickened in response to the Man's caresses and he snapped "I loathe you and all Men of your ilk Anborn, send me where you will, for I shall no longer have to suffer your attentions" he said, his voice raspy and weak sounding in his ears. Anborn and his men just laughed once more and Frodo felt only agony as the man roughly spun him about in his arms, adjusting his limp weight and grasped his curls to pull his head back until they were face to face.

Frodo could feel the hot breath of the man upon his face, feel himself being squeezed as a roughened hand caresses the back of his neck and he watched a grin slowly spread upon the man's leering countenece. "So strong and mighty, so full of good deeds and hope for others" the man nearly spat in contempt "ye'll need all yer hope halfhigh, the Corsairs have a price on yer head....seems they didn't take kindly ta yer King taking their ships...." Anborns voice softened and his eyes appraised the hobbit's form even as Frodo felt himself fondled in a way that made his skin crawl "it seems they've need of a few good lads ta warm their bunks and berths...as fetchin as you are, ye'll be right popular...I wonder how many'll get ta taste yer charms?" Frodo felt his stomach clench and he shivered as he recalled images of the Corsair ships, remembered the vague whispers of unspeakable atrocities visited upon the victims of their plundering greed. His heart ached as his mind held a sudden vision of Sam, Sam finding out where his Mr. Frodo had gone to. The picture of his friends deep fear and sadness played over and over in his mind as the shame he was soon to be delivered to became clear to him, and his last thoughts were of sorrow that he should cause his friends such sorrows, before the pain and fever of his infection overcame him and he sunk into the comfort of his unconsciousness.

The early evening sky bore the promise of stars, a faint breeze from the river cooled the sheen of sweat on the King's skin as he dismounted from Brego and scrambled the last 20 feet to the top of the knoll. He reached the still body, muttering words of comfort as his fingers fought to untie the harsh knots which entrapped the frail wrists. The deepening twilight made his task more difficult as his eyes strained to see the pattern of the ropes. He untied one hand and noted the angry raw rope burns about the wrist as he carefully supported the limp frame of his friend he began to untie the other hand. He quickly looked to see if this hand was also injured from the beastly treatment the hobbit had endured and his eyes opened wide as the facts before him were revealed. Fingers, there were five fingers on this hand...as there were upon the other. With a muttered oath he hastily ripped the cloth covering the head cradled against his chest and he stared in shock at the pale and rough features of a lad, a human lad of no more than 12 summers.

Aragorn squeezed his eyes shut but a moment in his pain and he continued his task as his mind raced. Tricked, he'd been tricked in his desperation and longing to save his friend from the agony of his kidnappers, he'd been tricked. He groaned as he hastily untied the lad's hand and gathered him up in his arms. As the King walked down the hill to his waiting mount he perused the face of the child in his arms. He'd been clearly struck by something, a dried trail of blood ran from his temple down his neck. His breathing was slow and labored, the boy had clearly been drugged. 'Whatever your name, you did not deserve such treatment' he found himself thinking as he placed the limp body up upon the saddle and climbed up carefully behind him. With a heavy heart and renewed sense of purpose he wheeled about and began to move slowly back towards his approaching guards and the confines of the camp.


	34. ch 34: Consenting

Faces of War

Chapter 34: Consenting

Disclaimer: The magical characters of JRR Tolkien live on in the hearts of all fan fic writers...including me...however, they are the "property" of JRR and his heirs....gladly borrowed for a brief time.

Thanks to all who have been patiently waiting...well some more patient than others...for this next installment. Sorry for the delay, wanted this to be "just right" as I begin to take some of the characters down alternate paths....

Renee, Shunshinecchica43 and Kellie.... I'm Baaaack! Hope it's worth the wait....and thanks for your..how shall we say..."gentle prodding"? Keep after me if you must...I do have much more to write about!

Iorhael...Thanks for hanging in there! I don't know how you keep so attentive to all your many stories...I'm in awe of one who can be such a dedicated writer!

Shire Baggins...Hang in there...Frodo will find his comfort...from many expected and unexpected places!

TTTurtle...Wow, thanks for the praise...I'm glad you like the story...yes there are twists and turns aren't there? Every good tale can take us to places we expect and places we don't!

MoonlightShadow...Thank you for following this story...please review when you have the time, otherwise just enjoy! I like to keep tension in the story...it maintains the excitement for me as a writer...I like to try to imagine what "I" would do if I were one of the characters

( presumptuous of me I know...but must get inside their little heads!).

BraellyraLeatherleaf....Yes, I pity Sam as well...but he is following his heart in his rescue of his friend....and I think there is no truer path that the one that love can lead you to!

FantasyFan...Frodo will find his rescuer yet...but who will it be? Yes, Sam has the heart and wit to best the three evil Ruffians...but does he alone have the strength? Keep "tuned"...I hope I can continue to keep you interested in the emotional ride that each Character is undertaking....thanks for your kind words and insightful praise...it keeps me searching for better ways to express the story!

Endymion2....Thanks so much for attention to this story...I am a huge fan of your works and praise from you is a star in my night I can assure you! Hang in there...we shall soon see Aragorn revert to his "ranger" side and the rescue is upon us...but who will it be? Sam has the heart...Qurag the strength..and Aragorn the knowledge......Where will Frodo find his comfort? Will his vision of Chrys have more meaning than just fever induced fantasy? We shall see my precious, we shall see!

The clatter of Brego's hoofs spoke to all in the King's path of their lord's urgency and anger. Aragorn was known to be a gentle horse master and the uneven echo of hoofs being driven too hard and too fast caught all in the camp by surprise. By the time Brego's foaming flanks came into view, most in the camp were standing at full alert, thinking that such haste from their liege lord meant only that the time for action was upon them. Men looked one to another, wordless their thoughts spread from one to another ..._it is time_...and more than one staunch warrior gripped their sword hilt and sneered, eyes hard with the desire to harm, to bring pain to those who sought to bring down the one their King held in such high regard. The tension in the camp mounted, a palatable entity, a pulsating energy that held all in its wake, they waited as their King dismounted with a limp body in his arms.

"Terren" Aragorn yelled as he dismounted and tossed the reins to a waiting guard without even adjusting his grip on the bundle in his arms "bring my satchel" he yelled and turning to a sentry added "water, heat water and bring it to my tent". He strode forward towards the coolness of his silken tent and flung the flap aside as he laid the form in his arms upon his bed, he continued to yell for Terren to attend him.

"My King" the sentry said respectfully "Terren is tending to the young lass...she is only now beginning to stir". Aragorn grunted his acknowledgment and gestured to the guard to bring him clean cloths from a nearby table. The King knelt down and began to gently peal layers of dust and blood stained clothing from the limp body before him. "I understand Terren's need to be with Rosetta, yet he is needed here as soon as he is able...see to it he receives that message" Aragorn said as he began to use the warmed water and cloths to wipe the grime from his patients face. As the guard left he noted the absent minded way in which his King tended the little one upon his bed and thought it strange that this man, this King who had infused them all with his passion for the Ringbearer, could be so calm in this moment of need.

Rumeil had heard the summon of the King and had gently nudged Terren to gain his attention as the elderly healer sought to bring comfort to the tiny girl beside him. "Terren" he whispered, never taking his eyes from Rosetta's dirt encrusted curls and pale face "the King has returned and seeks your aid...you must go," he said quietly as he carefully stroked a limp curl from his sister's face "go...I will watch to her now....go help the King in his efforts with Sir Frodo". Terren paused, clearly torn in his feelings of love and duty....but seeing the calm certainty of Rumeil's administrations stood to grab his bag and go help his King.

Sam found his feet stumbling with fatigue as he dismounted from Bill. "There ye go lad" he said to the docile pony "jest give yerself some rest, a few hours at best my Bill and we'll be off ta find our Master" he said with a gleam in his eyes. He tied the reins to a scrub pine at the base of another steep grade and staked out a spot of level ground in which to lay his bedroll. A few quick bites of Lembas and a drink from his water skin and he reclined into his blankets. He crooked his arm and stretching it out behind him laid his head upon it and stared into the velvety softness of the newly risen stars. His eyes saw the stars in constellations as Frodo had taught him to do and he wondered at a world where there was enough peace for people to name stars. He clenched his eyes closed and recalled a similar night, laying upon the freshly mown grasses of the summit of Bag End as he and Frodo had played at renaming the stars above....how they had laughed as they'd taken the names of constellations known for thousands of years by the fair folk and named them in the ever practical manner of the Shire, stars long blessed with grand names were soon reduced to phrases such as "Lotho's pimple", "Lobeila's Umbrella" or "Sandyman's arse".Sam smiled to think of their irreverent notions, he had himself known only a few Elvish words and so he'd been only able to offer up the alternative names for his Master to laugh at. Yet, as the night had worn on he'd gladly sat back and allowed Frodo to tell his tales of the great stars above them and had been in awe of the great knowledge which flowed so easily from the young master.

He sighed heavily, a sudden pain in his chest and a hardening lump in his throat the telltale sign that his tears, ever lurking just below the surface, were soon to emerge again. "Oh Frodo" he murmured, his voice husky with pain "please live to tell yer Sam tales of the stars once more...please be strong my friend...the Shire needs ya...." he wiped his arm across his eyes trying to stem the flow of tears that were stubbornly appearing. He rolled over to his side and curled into a disconsolate ball of hobbit as he looked once more, through the blur of his tears, to Earendil....the brightest star and whispered "I need you...don't go...don't leave me master" and he broke down at last, the shaking of his shoulders and his muffled sobs the only sound to break the stillness of the deep night.

Frodo woke to the harshness of a cruel slap, his head rocked violently to one side and then the other as a second blow followed. He opened his eyes wearily and felt himself pulled up roughly into a sitting position by hands that gripped his upper arms tightly. His head lolled about and his gaze remained unfocused as another slap was given. "Wake yerself Halfhigh...ye'll get yer rest when we tell ya it's time...now wake up damn ya." the harshness of the man's words were matched by the cruel wrenching open of the Hobbit's lips as the man's calloused hand grabbed Frodo's chin in one hand and his curls in the other. Frodo felt the abruptness of a waterskin jammed into his mouth, his dry and cracked lips bleeding from the sudden stress. He sputtered and choked as a fiery liquid flooded his mouth and traced a burning path to his stomach. He gagged and coughed as the familiar sensation of pain and tingling coursed through him and he fought to keep from retching what little remained in his stomach.

"Seems a might bit reluctant ta take his medicine eh boys?" Anborn said with a nasty grin that did not reach his cold grey eyes. Thad loosened his grip and stood up from where he'd knelt in front of the Hobbit. Frodo thought for a moment that his dizziness would overwhelm him and he waited to fall backwards only to find himself dragged to his feet from behind as Mendal wrapped his arm roughly about the slender chest of the Ringbearer and forced him to stand. Frodo hissed in agony at the pain to his swollen foot, the sudden reminder of his infected limb served to waken him at last and he gritted his teeth and struggled to stand with most of his weight upon the other leg. He lifted his bound arms and tried to unwrap Mendal from about him as the man pulled the hobbit into his embrace with a chuckle and an exaggerated groan of pleasure. "Now that's no way ta greet yer old love now is it?" Mendal laughed. Frodo felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he trembled involuntarily in his disgust and loathing. Anborn walked slowly and deliberately to kneel in front of the shaking hobbit "ye'll listen ta me ya miserable rat, ye'll listen good" he hissed as he ran his hand not so gently from the hobbits temple to rest carefully upon the delicate bones of the hobbit's collarbone. Frodo stared soundlessly at the frightening visage before him. Anborn's chipped and yellowed teeth were bared in a sneer and the rank odor of the ruffian before him nearly caused the hobbit to gag, but he continued to stare, now fully awake. The dry chuckle of the Ruffian before him grated upon the Hobbit's ears and he wished with all his heart that the cruelty that was certainly to be his to suffer was over, that he'd never again have to endure the cold derision of such foul creatures.

Anborn's chuckle faded as he made note of Frodo's growing strength and he reached his large hand to grip the Hobbits chin with crushing strength and suddenness. Frodo felt his head wrenched to one side and stared in horror at the specter before him. Thad was standing, feet straddling the inert form of Quarag, a bloodied branch raised high and sweat dripping from the exertion of his repeated blows. The Orc lay senseless from his beating, fresh rivulets of blood streaming from the exposed skin of his naked back, arms and legs tied spread eagled to the contorted roots of a series of wind gnarled trees.

As Frodo watched, Thad raised his arm once more and delivered a blow that sliced skin and jolted darkened flesh as a soft moan was heard in the still of the night. The hobbit was horrified by the display of senseless cruelty and he cried out his protest "No" he yelled and with a catch in his dry and raspy voice he pleaded "No!, bring no more pain to one who has suffered enough". Anborn laughed out loud at the Hobbit's feeble protests "suffered?" the man asked scathingly "he has yet to begin his suffering" he spat....and then, eyes alighting upon the fairness of the figure before him, he continued in a husky whisper "he'll suffer no more if you show the proper amount of affection my friend....if you show me all the love and fellowship you would give so easily to his dark scared flesh....to me" he finished as he ran his hand gently through the snarled curls of his small victim.

Frodo shuddered and clenched his eyes closed but a second before replying "I shall do all you ask if you will but guarantee his safety" he said staring in dismay at the dirt and blood covered form of his friend. Anborn cocked one eyebrow "Anything?" he questioned "Anything at all?".

Frodo swallowed the growing lump of fear and disgust in his throat, the Orc draught had strengthened his leg, so to had it given him a renewed sense of purpose and desire to see done that which was right for those he loved. "Anything" he spat in contempt "anything you wish...but you'll leave him be....offer no more harm to him" he swallowed and blinked back his tears as he sacrificed himself "I shall do as you ask" he whispered in defeat.

Terren sat upon the ground outside the King's richly brocaded and carpeted space, he held his head in his hands and pulled his knees up to his chest as he thought of how he would explain to Rumeil the needs of the King, and how very important the healing of this strange child had become. The elderly healer thought of the compassion and affection he'd seen in his King's eyes as he'd watched Terren and then the boy for any sign that a future of hope and health was soon to be theirs. The minutes and hours had dragged on and with each successive moment the hope upon Aragorn's face had waned and Terren knew that his King's faith in the fate of the Ringbearer was in some way tied to the cure and wellness of the unnamed child in their midst.

The elderly healer was shaken by the intensity of the King's hopes, he did not know what more he could do to heal the young one. Terren went over again in his mind all he'd tried thus far, it had been apparent that the lad had been poisoned and that the rough handling and brutal strength of the elements had taken their toll on the resilience of the young one. "If I knew but the name of the poison, if I knew what had befallen him during days past...I could help him better" he whispered to himself. He shook his head in frustration and slowly rose from his position beside the tent as he thought to himself 'tis to Rosetta and Rumeil I must look to know it would seem' as he shuffled off slowly towards his tent.

Aragorn sat motionless beside the cot upon which the young lad had been laid. He watched the slow and labored breathing, marking the time between breaths, finding his own held at times in anticipation. His mind was a whirl with his agonizing blame and self doubt, he knew now that he had chosen the wrong path. His desire to serve the people as a King, his need to show prudence and clear rationale thought had not served the ends to which he now found himself. He sighed heavily and rubbed his hand gently upon the child's face, noting that there was not as of yet any sign of fever, and he was glad to know that at least he could keep the child comfortable. He wondered idly if there were anyone thinking of the comfort of the Ringbearer, an image of Dalmers last messenger came to mind and he frowned at the notion of any man of _that_ ilk wanting to help the Hobbit. He buried his face in his hands, afraid for his friend, fearing that the cruelty of the Hobbits captors would allow for nothing less than days of pain and nights filled with painful humiliation. His mind felt leaden, his will infused with despair and guilt for all that he wished he'd done... had he only searched for Frodo himself, sent more troops with Merry and Pippin, enlisted the aid of Elrond...had he only acted as the Ranger he'd once been, not the King he was trying to be. He moaned with the pain of his self discovery and preyed to the Valar that a way would be found to ease Frodo's torment, that somehow the beleaguered Hobbit would find comfort to sustain him until he..he found the strength to be the Ranger he once was. The night wore on and somewhere in the endless hours of pain, guilt and soul searching....a new plan began to form.

Frodo crawled the last few feet to Quarags side, the dust and rocks of the cooled desert ground slowing his pace as he worked his way along the uneven terrain slowly and carefully as he strained to keep the noise of his movements to a minimum. He paused a moment to catch his breath and to wipe a stray tear from his bruised face as an image of his last hours came unbidden before him and he had to stifle a sob that threatened to proclaim his misery to the sleeping ruffians. They had done all in their power to belittle, shame and defile him...his body screamed with the agony of their rough handling while his spirit cowered beneath the weight of his guilt. He'd been forced to participate in their foul games, had been made to serve them, to answer their every whim and to submit willingly to their lust. For these last hours of hell, these moments of humiliation and the images in his mind of unending pain, he was to be given until sunrise. He forced himself to continue crawling, pushing his self loathing aside as he sought to travel the few more feet he needed to cover to get to Qurag. 'I have only a few short hours' he thought to himself "must...get...to him" he whispered under his breath as he covered the last pain wracked inches to collapse beside the bound form of his friend and protector.

The hobbit, now trembling from fatigue, pain and the force of his emotions curled close to the Orc and put his head gently upon the massive scared shoulder, trying to avoid bringing additional hurt to either of them in the process. He snuggled in there a moment and using a corner of his shirt attempted to wipe the grime and blood from the blunt features of the Orc beside him. "Qurag" he whispered urgently "Qurag, you must wake...I've not much time...we must talk" he pleaded. The body beside him moaned thickly and Frodo hastened to quiet him "Shh Qurag...do not talk my friend, only listen....please you must listen." The hobbit leaned up on one elbow to better view the large face just beginning to become more visible in the gradually growing light of the coming dawn. He looked down to see large brown eyes, eyes swollen from heat and the force of his beatings, eyes staring sadly at him. Frodo turned away, unable to bear the look of sadness and pity that dwell in the large dark eyes beneath him "Qurag" he whispered in a voice broken with pain and fear "Qurag, how is it with you?" he asked softly.

Dark brown eyes, eyes rimmed with pain and exhaustion, were flooded with pity and Frodo's lip quivered as he saw the emotion that this Orc shared, an empathetic bond was drawn between them as their ties of friendship drew even tighter. "Men forced sport on you little one...not your choice" Qurag whispered. Frodo's eyes filled with tears at the bluntness of the Orc's message and he turned his face away in shame as he felt his body begin to tremble. Qurag, with a soft moan, tried to turn from his bonds to comfort the Hobbit, finding that his ties would allow him no freedom. Frodo grimaced as he saw out of the corner of his eyes the Orc's struggle. The Hobbit bit his lip to still his own pain and turned to help untie the binds that lay upon the dark scarred wrists of his friend. Qurag lay without moving and watched the pale and tear marked cheeks of the Ringbearer. As Frodo finished his task and sought to give the Orc some distance, he felt his wrist suddenly grasped as he was pulled into an embrace that enveloped his body in one large swoop of sweat and blood stained arms. "Shh little friend" Qurag whispered as he felt the hobbit begin to shudder in his attempts to restrain his tears "let go pain...keep no hold on their evil" he said strongly.

Frodo wanted suddenly, more than anything, to let loose a torrent of tears, to cry and scream and curse the cruel ways of men, yet he bit back his tears and restrained himself. There was just too much to say and too little time to be wasted on tears. He gently pushed Qurag from him and back to a space where once more he could lie beside him. This time Frodo lay upon his side and curled into the space left near the Orc's stomach. He lifted his wide blue eyes to see the pain and loss reflected back at him and he carefully lifted a finger to touch a deep cut upon Qurag's muscled side "they are animals" he said quietly as Qurag winced. He continued "_They_ Qurag, _they_ are the animals..._they_ are the beasts, the ones who give so freely of pain and take so deeply of honor and self respect." The hobbit locked eyes with the Orc, needing his message to penetrate "They are the evil in this world Qurag, not you..." he paused and lifted a small hand to caress the Orc's bruised and bloodied cheek "your goodness is trapped in a place where no one will look for it my friend, do not let the world judge you by the actions of your kind" he ran his hand down to Qurag's chest, careful to avoid the worst of his injuries "you have the heart of a hero Qurag...the children will need you, they will need you to be strong and good for them..." .Qurag opened his mouth to speak but Frodo shook his head and held up his hand, willing the Orc to remain quiet and Qurag waited. Frodo sighed heavily and looked to the sun just beginning to show upon the horizon "they will come for me soon, I have only a few more moments...the time I have with your was dearly bartered for...so it is your turn to listen, alright?" he asked, blue eyes wavering within a pool of unshed tears. The Orc tightened his lips and nodded, his eyes never leaving the blue pools before him. Frodo smiled sadly and reached to squeeze Qurag's hand "They will take me to the Corsairs and I know that the Orc draughts they give to sustain me will work only as long as I will it to be so...there is little time left for me and they have promised to leave you here, tied as you were before, but I will refasten your binds in a loser fashion so that you can escape, I know you can do this Qurag...you must find the King. You must find the King and bring help to the children trapped in the mine." Frodo looked intently in the Orc's eyes "please tell me you will do this Qurag, I must have your promise, I will find no rest if the children are not safe." Qurag nodded slowly and said "I will find your children Little Friend...I will help them be safe and good". Frodo smiled, a pain laced smile and lifted the Orc's hand to his lips for a brief gesture of warmth and brotherhood as he held it clasped to his dirt and blood smeared face. "Thank you my friend" he whispered and then moved carefully and quietly to re-tie the thongs that bound the Orc to the tree roots about them.

As his weary fingers finished ting the last knot, a sudden surly voice was heard "say yer 'good-byes' Little man...we've got some new friends ye'll be jest dyin' ta get ta know" Thad snorted his laughing appreciation of his own wit as Frodo was roughly grabbed about the waist and lifted away from the now struggling form of Qurag. The Orc could feel the looseness of his binds, and longed to break free to save his friend, but knew he'd have to be careful in his actions for he was not strong enough to take on the three men. Yet, he could not let Frodo be taken without a show of protest and he felt his anger grow as he watched the grimace of pain which crossed the pale Ringbearer's face as he was tossed to the man called Mendal. He writhed against the thongs that bound him and gave a primal bellow of hatred and pain that stopped Thad in his tracks.

Qurag felt the heavy booted foot of the surly man slam into his side again and again as he grunted in his efforts "ye'll shut yerself now" Thad said menacingly. After a few more kicks for good measure Frodo's cries and his pleading for Thad to stop brought the attention of Anborn, who'd been fastening the last of his gear to his horse saddle. The leader of the men lifted his head from his task in irritation and shouted "We're expected to the point in the next day's ride Thad....leave him, he'll soon have no one ta scream to but the vultures who rend his flesh, now let's go." Thad spat upon Qurag's now still form and with one last kick, turned to join the others.

The Orc's last view of Frodo was of red rimmed wide blue eyes, and pale bruised cheeks turned to him from the his place before Mendal. The Hobbit's tired voice, raised above the clatter of the horses hooves came to him through the dust of their departure "remember...remember your promise" was his anguished cry. Then with a last pleading look Frodo was gone and the Orc was left with nothing but the sound of distant hooves and the fuel of his hatred as he began to work his loosened thongs under the scrutiny of the carrion feeders who circled above.


	35. chapter 35: Commanding

Faces of War

Chapter 35: Commanding

Disclaimer: Love these characters...too bad they're not mine...all Hail the the creativity of the word wizard JRR Tolkien.

MoonlightShadow....thanks for your kind words....I can only imagine how hard it must have been for Aragorn to transition from his life of solitude to his life as King.....

Renee...Frodo is a mess...no doubt he could use some rescuing soon....very soon....for Anborn will seek to take one last thing from the weary hobbit!

BraellyraLeatherleaf...Sorry for the wait...major "worm" issue with my internet hook up and was unable to write for two weeks...but I'm back and thanks for the compliments!

endymion2...sorry I think I crossed your name with "Elenya"...another fanfic writer....you review so beautifully...why don't you take a stab at this "writing thing"? Yes, I am taking out some of my frustrations about the cruelty of the world within the pages of this story...just when I think things can't get any worse...they do and so my story continues...very therapeutic!

Shire Baggins...Yikes...a year? I am embarrassed at my tardiness...I had hoped to have this done so I could begin to post the first story in this trilogy "River of Tears" (early life of orphan Frodo)...I shall just have to write faster!

Iorhael....Thanks for being such a loyal reader and reviewer Iorhael...I'm just happy you're still with me after all this time!

TTTurtle....I am sorry to have kept you waiting...many techno problems with worms trying to eat my internet ( kinda like the dog ate my homework excuse)...but I'm back and thanks for reviewing!

The glow of the rising sun cast a warmth about the stillness of the camp, red and pink and soft peach hues meandered across the sky and touched upon the distant mountains as Terren looked from the flap of his tent. A soft smile played at the corner of his lips as he slowly craned his neck and looked over his shoulder to the picture of bliss behind him. The newly washed golden curls, the pouty lips opened with the quiver of dream driven murmurings their only movement, the sight of Rumeil wrapped so tightly about his sister....these sights brought him great joy and he smiled his contentment. As the night was about to give up it's dominion he'd seen a change in this dearest of children, her breathing had eased, her fever had broken and her heart had settled to a steady rhythm. He knew it would be only hours before she would awaken again. He stepped back from the entry of the tent and walked slowly, never taking his eyes from his patient, to stand beside them. He smiled, Rumeil had been unable at first to accept the good news, had pulled back and stood anxiously at the door of the tent, but with Terren's reassurance his confidence grew and as one by one symptoms of pain and debilitation disappeared from the beloved face of his sister, Rumeil's face became a study in wonder. The healer walked next to the small cot, now amply covered with the small idols of his heart, and he reached down to brush a stray curl from his girls face. He hesitated a bit in his motion 'my girl' he found himself thinking and he furrowed his brow in consternation for she was not his girl, nor were Rumeil or Kylos his sons. Terren sat back and stared at the youngsters, his thoughts swirled and slowly an idea began to take shape.

A sudden swish of fabric and a rush of cooler air alerted Terren to the entry of another to the tent. He stood in dismay at the sight of his King and hastily dropped his chin to his chest in a gesture of respect. Aragorn, all business as he entered the tent caught the motion of the healer and he paused in his steps to the cot to place a hand on Terren's shoulder " you owe me no such gesture Terren" he said sternly and then he frowned to himself as he continued "I am not sure I have been worthy of it as your King". Terren opened his mouth to protest and Aragorn held up a hand to forestall the elderly healer's words "not now my friend, it is of other matters that I must speak with you." Terren nodded and waited for his Kings words.

Aragorn brushed past Terren and knelt on the floor beside the cot in time to see Rosetta begin to stir, he turned back to fix Terren in his gaze "how does she fare? Will she awaken soon?" he asked quietly. Terren came forward and crossing to the other side of the cot, closer to Rumeil, he smiled and nodded "aye my Lord, her fever is broken and she has taken some water and nourishment....I expect that she shall waken anytime." He paused a moment to sooth a wayward lock of Rumeil's hair "as will he." At the touch of Terren's hand Rumeil began to waken, his eyes fluttered open uncertainly and for a moment it was clear that the lad was unsure of his whereabouts. A wiggle beside him reminded him and he tightened his grasp around his sister's waist, his reflexive motion earned him a breathy whine "stop squeezing me Rumeil, I can scarce breathe" Rosetta mumbled without opening her eyes.

Rumeil, at the sound of his sisters tiny voice, found himself wide awake as he leaned over to kiss her face with great exuberance "Oh Rosetta...oh..oh yer going' ta be jest fine now...oh stars Terren she's goin' ta be alright" he said with wonder in his voice and a tear in his eye, as he continued to alternately kiss her face and stroke her cheek gently. The King smiled with all reserve forgotten as Rosetta groggily pushed Rumeil away with a grumpy "stop yer slobberin' Rumeil." causing those about her to share a genuine laugh.

With the sound of laughter as her guide, Rosetta finally opened her eyes and found herself staring into the wisest and kindest eyes she'd ever seen. She stared but a moment as Aragorn reached to brush a curl from her face "Welcome back Princess" he whispered "you've been missed little one." Rossetta looked from Aragorn to Terren and over to Rumeil...then back to Aragorn again and her serious face broke into a smile as she said "We are safe then...just as Sir Frodo promised....the bad men are gone, they are finally gone" she said in awe and then she reached to grab Aragorns hand "take me to my Sir Frodo...he'll be needin' his Princess" she said her blue eyes wide with the import of her message. Aragorn frowned but a moment and then took her little hand in both of his as he said "I can not take you to the Ringbearer yet my child, he is still held by the bad men, but I give you my word that together we will find him". Aragorn paused to note the tears arising in her deep blue eyes and he carefully cupped her chin in his hand as he looked deep into her fears "you will be brave, for that is I'm certain what Sir Frodo would ask of his Princess." She took a deep breath and wiped a hand across her eyes and nodded slowly as Aragorn continued "that's a girl, now why don't you tell me of what you and the Ringbearer have done over the past days...for I have missed my friend and his stories."

Sam started awake, a crushing pain in his chest and rapid beating of his heart the physical reminder of his nightmare driven panic. He panted heavily and wiped the sweat from his brow as he tried to shake off the affects of this latest nightmare, the images were still with him however and he stumbled to his feet to try and walk off his fear. His steps brought no relief and as he neared the spot where he'd tethered Bill he was struck with an image so vivid he gasped out loud. In his mind he saw a high bluff that fell away to a vast river many hundreds of feet down. Upon the bluff, in the shimmering mists of early morning's sunrise a figure was revealed to him. A dark haired shape, small of limb and fair of face was trembling in the grip of a large coarse looking man, a man with dark locks and hard grey eyes. The wide blue eyes of the Hobbit in the mans grasp were vacant and dull, their expression changed not at all, even as the man backhanded him viciously over and over again. The silent snapping backing forth of the Hobbit's head drove the man to a frenzy and with a yowl of rage he grabbed the small figure by his neck , strode angrily to the edge of the bluff until, holding the Hobbit above the yawning expanse of death below and with a malicious sneer and one last shake, dropped him.

The sandy haired Hobbit felt a pain in his heart as he realized that his nightmares had transcended the cover of darkness and the sanctity of his sleep to invade his waking hours, a nightmare no longer were these images and he cursed his stupidity as he ran the remaining feet to Bill and clumsily untied the slender elven rope that held him. "A vision" he mumbled ' 'tis surely a vision of what's ta happen...if it tain't happened already' he thought frantically as he scrambled atop Bill and followed his heart. The ground flew under him and Sam urged the pony on until the foaming sweat off of Bill's flanks and the huffing sound of the the pony's breath brought him at long last back to his senses and he slowed the exhausted pony to a walk. The racing of the wind, or perhaps the endless pain in his heart had brought a flood of tears to his eyes and he could barely see where Bill walked so consumed was he by his fears. He forced himself to cease his tears "twon't get him back, mores the fool you are Samwise Gamgee" he said to himself and he wiped his coarse linen shirt sleeve across his eyes. Heartsick and feeling more scared than he ever had, even during the dreaded days of Mordor, Sam and his stalwart Bill marched steadily across the barren gullies and rocky plains of Gondor, heading ever onward as he followed his images to fulfill his own quest, the rescue of his childhood friend and hero.

Faramir, having gone already to seek Aragorn at the royal tent, and having found him absent, followed his instincts and soon found himself at the tent of Terren the healer. Pausing a moment to quietly ask permission to enter, the young Steward of Gondor swept open the tent flap and looked upon the first smile he'd seen on his King's face in many a day. Aragorn was sitting and listening to the tales told by Rosetta of Frodo and the children, Faramir paused to watch the genuine warmth, admiration and love that his King bore for the Ringbearer flit across his face as the fair haired child's words wove a spell of peace about the room. Faramir thought back to his last moments with Frodo in Ithilien, the torment the ranger had felt would surely guide the steps of the gentle Hobbit had not registered in his wide blue eyes and he remembered feeling in awe of the courage and resolute demeanor the tiny creature had possessed. He listened a moment to Rosetta's words and closed his eyes trying to envision the Frodo that she and the children had grown to love..." it was his teachin' of Kylos...the way he made all of us feel, that no matter the evil of those about us, no matter how scared we were or how hungry we got...well he was there for us" she said her eyes lost in a memory as she paused and then turned to take the King's hand shyly in hers "he believed in us...." The petite waif smiled a dreamy expression of her love and continued...."and what 'twere even more important was that he made all 'o us begin to think that after all the bad that had happened, after all that had pained us from the great war, after all the bad men asked of us, that we could believe in ourselves if we held on ta our hope...". Faramir felt a tear come to his eye and was surprised at the sudden shudder of emotion that passed through him as he watched his King kiss the tiny hand encased in his larger one.

Faramir, while hating to distract Aragorn from his thoughts, needed to speak and he softly cleared his throat to gain the attention of the King. Aragorn looked up from Rosetta, his brow furrowed in concern as his attention was drawn to his Steward "yes Faramir?" he said quietly, letting loose the small hand in his. "Sire, the Orc grows restless, the men are having some difficulty restraining him, they fear that in his anger he may get lose, he is yelling for..." Faramir paused and tilted his head towards the slight child on the cot before continuing...."would you have us increase his bonds or perhaps have Terren prepare a calming sleeping draught?" Before Aragorn could answer Rosetta struggled to sit up as Rumeil, still lying beside her, tried to quiet his Sister's protests " What bonds? Why have you tied Durzak?" she cried. Aragorn looked startled by her protests "Rosetta, calm yourself ....you must not worry for he will not hurt you again." His voice lowered to shush and sooth what fears she'd dealt with at the hands of the Orc. She shook her head and looked about the room with confusion in her eyes "he has not hurt me...he and Qurag rescued us...they got us from the cave as it collapsed in the explosion." Aragorn and Terren managed to calm the agitated child and gradually the tale was told; the strength of the Orcs in the cave in, the frightening trek through the dark underground, Frodo's attempts to hide his discomfort and the pain of the hot march in the desert. A tale of bravery, courage and sacrifice came from the lips of the tiny lass and Faramir listened with growing suspicion and apprehension as he watched Aragorn take in the tale. "You must take me to him King Aragorn, he will be afraid for me and we need to go find Sir Frodo and Qurag" she said matter of factly as she began to swing her nightshirt clad lags aver the side of the cot. Rumeil grabbed her about the waist and urged her to lie back down "jest you wait little Rosie...the King will take care of this matter, and ya need yer rest after all yer trials" the pale boy looked hopefully to the face of the King, wanting reassurance that his sister's cause would be attended to.

The Steward stiffened, "Sire...the Orc is dangerous, he is a trained killer and must be controlled" he said objecting to the thoughts he imagined were running through the King's mind.

Aragorn stared at his trusted Steward, everything in his past led him to believe in his friend's words, he himself had seen the atrocities visited upon humanity at the hands of these beasts, his Kingdom had suffered greatly at the hands of these monsters and he felt his heart harden with the images of death and innocent slaughter that came to his mind as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply his anger. He paused but a moment, lost in his visions of burning farms, maimed citizens and battlefields filled with the death cries of man and beast alike, then he felt the flutter of tiny arms entwining themselves about his neck and he opened his eyes to find himself looking face to face with the fair haired child of the Ringbearer's visions. He frowned and furrowed his brow in confusion and denial as he listened to the child's pleas. "Please King Aragorn" she whispered looking deeply through his jaded vision of the world "he's my friend...he saved Sir Frodo and me...why can _you_ not like him?" she asked and then added "Durzak did not hurt Sir Frodo...he helped us..he left his friend to help me...why can you not try to like him?".

Faramir clenched his fist "Sire, he is a beast...an animal by nature, one who would see the world of men destroyed...he can not be trusted" he hissed, eyes snapping in anger. Aragorn looked from one face to another, the innocence of youth balanced against the experience of war and he carefully disentangled Rosetta's arms from about his neck and wordlessly got up, standing silently a moment he clasped his hands behind his back and with a softened tone and sad demeanor said "I will think upon this" and looking with great intensity from one trusted face to another face filled with trusting he quietly left the tent. Faramir, his heart filled with hate for those that had brought ruin to his kingdom and death to those he loved turned to the fair haired child now sitting dejectedly within the confines of her brothers arms and said " be careful who you choose to trust little one" and he followed his King out into the growing light of the day.

The heat of the day was beginning to be felt as Frodo roused himself once more from his stuporous state of semi-consciousness, his head felt too heavy for his sore neck to lift, his ribs ached and every breath was a shallow reminder of his experience in the mine, his hands, chafed by the ropes which bound him to the horses's saddle, were numb from lack of circulation and his leg, which bounced upon the horse's side with each jarring step, was a growing agony. He gasped in pain as the horse hit a rough section of the path, immediately regretting his vocalization for now the man behind him gave his waist a tight squeeze to ensure his wakefulness and the Hobbit's quickly indrawn breath and exclamation of pain served only to make his captors laugh at his discomfort. "Now, now my sweet....don't ye go noddin' off again....ye must be lonely in yer dreams....let me keep ya company..." Frodo recognized the leering voice and manner of Mendal and he shuddered as he felt his body groped roughly from behind. Mendal bent and rubbing his scruffy face upon the Hobbit's smooth cheek ran his tongue around the tips of his pointed ears. He summoned his strength and using his good foot tried to deliver a kick to the man's knee. The glancing blow succeeded only in angering the man and Frodo felt his injured ribs and lash torn back squeezed violently as the man's other hand transferred the reins to the hand about the Hobbit's waist. His shirt was abruptly ripped open in the front as Mendal's knife wielding hand came up under his shirt to stop at the bottom of his ear. The man, his voice hissing in anger and lust filled his ear as the knife traced a path from ear to belly button in a thin tracing of pain and blood "ye'll get what yer owed fer that halfhigh, just you wait, payment's only put off" he whispered harshly and he quickly brought the knife around to the Hobbit's back as he found a pattern of cris crossed lash marks and delighted in scraping the knife across the scabbed over weals. Frodo groaned in pain and felt his stomach lurch at the reminder of his past torments as he felt the dampening of his shirt from newly re-opened wounds. Mendal laughed and slid the knife back to it's saddle casing as he flicked the hobbit's ear with his large tongue. Frodo felt a reminder of Mendals promise of future torments poke into his backside and a tear came to his eye as Mendal caressed his bruised and filthy chest with one hand while guiding the plodding steps of his horse with his other. They rode along in the growing heat of the day, the shame and helplessness of his position adding to the depth of his despair Frodo trembled and wept inside the tattered remnants of his once proud spirit.

Anborn watched carefully the actions of the Hobbit, he feared that his prize would soon be lost as he saw the lethargy and despair which sought to overcome the halfhigh. He smiled at the small sign of spirit that yet remained in the small ailing body of the Ringbearer as Frodo fought the hands of his captor, but he knew that time was running out. 'Soon' he thought to himself as he viewed Mendals cruelty 'soon you will choose the way of Numenor....a choice I can not allow you to have'. Anborn watched the lustful attentions visited upon the frail halfling and he snorted his contempt, soon the uppity halfhigh would have a life filled with degradation and pain...and his job was to ensure that his captive was delivered alive into the hands of the Corsair captain that was soon to meet them. 'It's time' he thought as his hand reached to pat the the precious substance contained in his saddlebag and he signaled the others to halt as he reached for the opiates given him by the Corsair messenger.

Sam shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun with one hand while holding Bills reins with the other and he looked to the barren landscape before him. He was giving Bill a well earned rest from his weight and he pulled hard upon the reins as he did his best to help the weary pony up the slippery shale hill. Sweat ran down his neck and his eyes burned from the relentless glare of the sun as he continued to doggedly head towards what he thought was the direction of the river, he knew from his previous night's dreams and his gradually increasing visions that the river was important. He stopped a moment and shook his head hoping to clear his vision, it seemed to his weary mind that his eyes might be playing tricks on him, but there was something moving on up ahead. He gathered the reins in both hands and urged Bill on at a faster pace and as he crested the next hill his heart froze in fear, a vision of pain and a memory of evil assaulted him as he looked upon the distant form of a dark skinned and scantily glad Orc stumbling through the scrub brush of the harsh land before him. He snarled in anger and hatred, wanting nothing more than to finish off this remnant of Sauron's evil, he reached to his side to draw Sting from it's sheath. His hand clenched in hatred about it's hilt he made ready to charge, his fear for his master, his helplessness and the vastness of his despair flooded through him and he wanted only to bring pain to those who had harmed so many. Taking a deep breath as tears of hate and agony filled his unblinking eyes he looked to the reflecting rays of the sun that caught him of a sudden in the face as they bounced from Sting's shiny surface and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. The sword that had been the harbinger of ill deeds to come as it had shown it's true colors during the quest, shone back at him, clear and silver in the glare of the full sun above. Sam's arm slowly dropped and he shook his head in confusion as his muddled brain tried to take in this latest fact, "blue" he thought " where is the blue light of hatred that shone forth in days past?". Before his mind could answer his heart's question he found his body moving, slowly moving in Hobbit fashion, feet soundless against the brush and dry scrub grasses as he followed the evil and repulsive creature with hatred festering within him.


	36. chapter 36: realizing

Faces of War

Chapter 36: Realizing

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just passionate about writing with them! Thank You JRR for your inspiration!

Moonlightshadow....Thank you for "hanging in" with the story.....we are on the verge of rescue...you must believe me....the next chapter should do it!

endymion2....Anborn learned of Frodo's "gift" when Frodo told him, and again when Frodo promised he'd not use the gift to keep first Rosetta, then later Qurag safe. Opiates, given in gradually higher doses to foster an addiction that his captors/owners intend to use to control the hobbit....great deductive reasoning! No I am not getting "tired" of bringing more imagery to Frodo's abuse....just trying to give the sense of day blending into day, torment into torment to build your feeling of Frodo's helplessness....to kind of de-personalize Frodo, like he is trying to do to survive...yes I always found Sting's glow fascinating and wondered if it glowed only in response to Orcs or to the evil that surrounded Saurons minions....Aragorn has finally "stepped up" in this chapter!

TTTurtle....thanks so much for your persistence! Yes, our boy is in for some more difficult times....his mind is also soon to be beset by pain and loss...as if it's no enough to torture his body and soul....I'll try to update weekly....but my chapters seem to be getting longer! I'm working on a "pre-prequal" to this ( takes place before "gift of the Valar" which was the first story written)..."River of Tears"....so I want to wrap this up and get started with Frodo's childhood.

BraellyLeatherleaf.....wow, I must say your review was quite lengthy...thanks for taking the time! Yes, the rescue is imminent....but Frodo is becoming slowly a little bit more unglued by the effect of the opiates given to him by Anborn...you'll meet another "evil doer" in this chapter! Rosetta is a disarmingly cute age five....mentioned way back in the first 6-7 chapters...Sam and Qurag shall have to find some common ground eh? I will try to add a chapter a week...but my chapters seem to be getting longer! Thanks for being patient....I'll try not to leave you "dangling"...thanks for the great review!

Kellie...I agree, enough already....hang on through this one last chapter...leading up to the climatic rescue in chapter 37...almost there luv, hang with me a bit longer eh?

The sound of morning doves and the restless snorting of their many mounts filled Aragorns conscious thoughts as he walked, lost in his thoughts, back to his tent. All his training and many years spent in the guardianship of others taught him that now was a time of violence, that now he should marshal his troops and set forth to find and crush the perpetrators of such evil. As his steps brought him closer to the river and it's gently gurgling life signs, the King thought upon the form and presence of the ringbearer. He remembered Frodo, suspicious and wary in Bree, brave and barely clinging to life during the long march from Weathertop, gentle and indulgent with his mischievous cousins, warm and protective of Sam and his genuine love and reverence for all things in need of protection. As the King walked, he remembered the many faces of Frodo; defiance, love, fearfulness, timidity, scorn, bereavement and the wisedom of the ages....all these faces and more were those of the quiet hobbit upon whose shoulders the fate of Middle Earth had rested. Yet, as he dwelled upon his memories of the past, the vision of Frodo's kind and gentle demeanor came once more to him, the face of the caring Frodo, shone through his memories and he knew, he knew beyond any doubt what Frodo would have him do. He whirled mid stride and sought his tent. The day was growing old and he had little time to accomplish all that needed to be done to save the gentle goodness of the one hobbit who might yet bring calm to his soul and his kingdom.

The King entered his tent and quickly brushed aside the trappings of his throne while refusing the help of one of his many man servants. He, with a quirk of an eyebrow and the wave of a hand sent his servants from him and alone with his thoughts set with quiet determination upon his one task. He knelt to take worn and faded garments from his travelers chest, his hands paused for the briefest of moments as he felt once more the weathered and enduring fabric of his oiled cloak and the hardiness of his leather leggings. As he set the velvet and silken fabrics of his royal linage aside, he knew that his life as a Ranger would be the course upon which the future of his kingdom would lie, the only map that would lead the Ringbearer back to those he loved. With nary a backwards glance, the King of Gondor slipped soundlessly from the slit he cut in the rear of his royal tent.

Sam dismounted from Bill and stood upon the ridge above the stumbling Orc in his sights. "Tis fair strange" he mumbled to himself as he watched the wild eyed and seemingly disoriented Orc weave upon his unsteady legs across the harshness of the barren landscape, looking as if at any moment his legs would collapse beneath him. "What drives you on in such a state?" the sandy haired Hobbit wondered as he watched the staggering Orc fall at last upon his knees. He grimaced as he watched the swarthy skinned creature crumple to the dust, fighting the urge to feel sympathy for a being clearly in such pain. He watched from a distance as the still form, the silent and still figure in the distance lie there, silent and motionless in the heat of the day. When moments had gone by and no change had been evident in the creature lying upon the ground, the determined hobbit moved slowly forward, he knew that somehow this abomination had played a part in the life of his master, and he moved forward to discover the meaning behind his feelings.

With stealth and caution the sandy haired hobbit crept to within a foot of the dark skinned and scarred form, whose body upon closer inspection was a myriad of cuts, bruises, whip weals and gouges. Sam shook his head in disgust, he knew from his hours spent in Cirith Ungol as he'd searched for his master, the foul manner that Orcs had as they 'pleasured' one another. He recognized some of the same brandings and markings as the ones he'd found upon Frodo on that horror filled day in the tower. As he stood, lost in his memories of that dark day he stared at the body before him, it was clear that many of the wounds were still fresh and had been delivered by creatures outside of the Orcs band and Sam wondered 'why'd they hurt him so and then let him leave'? As he inched still closer, with still no sign of movement from the body sprawled before him, Sam felt his hatred lessen and his good hobbit sense took over. ' 'Tis likely he's escaped the camp 'tis all...and that bein' true, he may have word of Mr. Frodo' he thought to himself and he walked slowly around the figure at his feet debating what he should do next. Sam took one last look at sting, the gleam of it's polished surface decided him and he reached to his belt to undo his water skin.

As Sam transferred sting to his other hand to more firmly grasp the waterskin he felt his arm grasped roughly, his wrist jerked abruptly and sting was knocked to the ground as he found a length of dark sinuous arm wrapped about his waist and one arm twisted behind him. "I help you, you not hurt Qurag" a guttural voice whispered, it's raspiness a reminder of how badly the waterskin was needed. Sam struggled but a moment, his small scale hobbit body no match for the wiry strength of the body holding him. The full impact of the Orcs words came to him and he seemed frozen in his wonder, he could understand the harsh voice in his ear, he recognized the flow of words awkwardly spoken in common tongue. He stopped struggling as all his thoughts came together upon several meaningful points, this Orc spoke a man's language and was offering help. "Where is he?" Sam whispered and then coughed as he felt himself squeezed "what 'ave ya done with Master Frodo?" he asked suspiciously. Qurag carefully eased his grip, allowing the hobbit more room to breathe and he answered " men take, men take to Corsairs to...to..." the Orc paused as he searched for the right common tongue words " to act as snaga for lonely nights". Sam's quickly indrawn breath, trembling form and moan of "no, no...Mr. Frodo" was filled with pain and despair. Qurag released him and pulled the shaken hobbit down to sit beside him in the dust. Qurag was careful to ensure that the sad creature beside him had no access to his shiny weapon and he kicked sting away with his foot as he turned to look at the dusty hobbit beside him. " Friend not well, need help soon, near to death." he said gently. Sam , still struggling to find the purpose of the Orc's words asked "what do you know of it and why is he not here with you? Qurag looked to the west, the direction he knew he must soon follow, "he is brave, half high see inside my heart," he paused to take a deep breath and continued with a quaver of emotion coloring his words" no creature go past the look of outside," Qurag gestured to his scarred arms and darkened skin " except your friend." Sam, bowing to the despair of the moment nodded his head,and turned his face to bury his feelings in the roughness of his cloak, soft muffled sobs emanating from his worn travel clothes.

Sam felt his heart break, his thoughts whirled about but came back again and again to 'no, no....not again...and with out yer Sam ta help...I can't bear it' he moaned lost in his visions of evil times and the pain of past humiliation for his dear friend and master. Qurag carefully took Sam's hands in his and slowly pried them from his face. The Orc tilted his head to look to Sam's eyes "I help find friend, you be half high of peace...we find the little one together". Sam, numb from pain and fear dumbly nodded 'yes'then struggled slowly to his feet reaching out a hand he helped Qurag to stand. He wiped the tears from his eyes and bent to pick up the dropped waterskin and wordlessly offered it to the Orc. Qurag took the offering gratefully and drank for a moment as Sam watched him through the gathering dusk. They stood in the growing array of gathering evening colors, the skies brilliant blue, gold and rose hues capturing a newly reawakened spirit of hope. They looked sadly to one another, Qurag locked hazel eyes to black as he said "Ringmaster hurt, seeks peace soon, we go to river.....that is where we find him." Sam nodded grimly, but with a quick glance to the Orc's many hurts silently took a wad of handkerchief from his pocket and began to wash the worst of his ailments...he wondered if he made the right choice, but there was something compelling in the words of the Orc and Sam knew that his Frodo would find help from those most caught up in the painful aftermath of this war. As Sam carefully washed what blood and filth he could from the scarred and pitted skin of the Orc, Qurag shared what he could, with his limited language, of all that had happened in the last few days.

Anborn tucked the sweet smelling paste back into it's well oiled pouch and tied it once more to his saddle. He stepped back from his horse and looked about him, this was the place he'd been instructed to find, he was certain of it. "But where are ya ye damn cosair wastrel?" he muttered under his breath as he looked over the jagged cliffs to the winding river several hundred feet below "where are ya?". A loud grunt of laughter and a barely audible moan came from the brush near to the stand of trees behind him and Anborn whirled about in anger "lay off Thad, we've ta leave something for Captain Keldor ta take back ta his crew, now back off I tell ya, he doesn't even know yer there so don't be wastin yer time", he snarled impatiently. Thad laughed "aye, he doesn't know now, but I'll be waitin' fer him ta wake up Cap't" the ruffian said with a snort of contempt as his foot kicked Frodo once more. Anborn shoved his hand under Thads nose "Does this smell mean nothin to ya? Yer as dense as them left ta fight with my Brother." Anborn snarled angrily as he waited for Thad's reaction. Thad took one wiff of the odor emanating from his leader's hand and backed off with a look of fear in his eyes. " 'tis the death flower, ye've given 'im... the death flower" he said with fear and respect mingled in his husky words.

The scornful ruffian yanked his hand back and walked over to the prone form lying trussed at his feet "aye" he said "Keldor wants no trouble from his newest prize, hoping to use 'em as barter in his upcoming war with Gondor" he smiled sardonically "so I gave the half high twice what I were told ta....no trouble means more money for us. Now Thad, leave off I tell ya and get Mendal ta help with the cooking of the night's meal" he said scowling. Anborn watched Thad stomp off to find wood for their fire while the leader of the group sat down beside his prisoner. He leaned over and gave the frail shoulder of the hobbit a hearty shake to see if he could be roused from his stuporous slumber, he elicited just a faint moan. 'By Arda, I'd better not a killed this troublesome piece of baggage' he found himself thinking 'or there'll be no money, nor ship and slaves from the Corsair.' He leaned over and brought his face next to the Ringbearer,eyes searching the slack and drooling lips, the turgid skin and hearing the shallow breaths, 'damn' he thought 'I may have already, perhaps I should have started with smaller doses.'

Frodo lay in drugged slumber. His drowsy mind was filled with the scattered images of what was to be, the possibilities of glories yet unseen, the chance to be with those he loved. In his deep dreams he saw once more the fair freckled skin, flashing green eyes and auburn ringlets of his love, Chrysanthemum laughing in the sunlight, scolding him in the kitchen, promising her troth to him upon the riverbank. She would be his reward, he knew that soon he'd be with her again. The blessings of Numenor would not be his path however, for try as he might he could not focus his intent and purpose, through the haze of his drugged state, to make clear his desires.'No matter' he found himself thinking, 'soon I will die the death of all creatures, no matter the gift of the Valar.' His mind drifted, rapidly whirling thoughts and images of what he hoped to soon be were mingled with the intermittent whisper and sensation of a young girl child and he found himself rocking his head back and forth to shed himself of _this_ image. 'No' he thought, his weary mind wanted only the path he'd been promised, only to be once more with his Chrys, but the image of the young girl child grew more vivid and Frodo remembered the feel of her small hand in his, her whispered words of encouragement and the sensation of small lips brushing his cheek. He remembered his last vision of Chrysanthemum, her fading figure and softly demanding voice tell telling him of his path. A single tear coursed down his cheek and he knew he could not leave until he'd bid his Princess farewell.

He felt his body shaken and a distant voice calling to awaken him. He fought the heavy lethargy of his last dose of poppy and struggled to open his eyes. The voices grew louder and he felt his curls yanked hard as his head was forced to the side. He was aware of the shadow of two figures beside him, his eyes fluttered open to allow a brief glimpse of the outline of black boots and brightly colored breeches before his eyes grew too heavy once more to hold open. He heard harsh laughter and a gradually growing sensation of heat as his hair was yanked once more, his head forced harshly to the side. He struggled once more to open his eyes, managing to force them open just as he felt his ear grasped and searing pain ripped through him as a burning brand was jabbed through the delicate skin of his earlobe. His eyes flew open and he fought weakly through his drug encumbered state to move his head away from the source of his misery. More laughter and the brutal twisting of his ear as the heated metal post was fastened end to end, left to dangle as a golden hoop of pain and ownership. Frodo found his breath coming in gasps and thrashed desperately, with what little strength and purpose he had, to pull away from these hands that brought such pain.

Anborn nodded to Thad and gestured to Mendal to release his hold on the half high and he admired his handiwork before turning to the newest visitor to his camp. "Tis clear where he belongs now Keldor, that ring'll mark him to the end of his days." he said with a cruel grin. The dark haired, swarthy captain walked once around his newest acquisition, hand clasped tightly behind his back he nodded his appreciation. " a fine job of ringing 'im you've done....his fate is in my hands now, a corsair slave he shall be." The dark black eyes of Keldor were riveted upon his dearly bought slave "the 'King' of Gondor will search in vain for Frodo the Ringbearer...yet he is no more.... he is forever forward to be known as Firngil...one who no longer leads, he is now the 'dead star' of his kind...no longer will the peoples of freelands see him as their savior." The Corsair captain said solemnly. He took his eyes from the still twitching and pain wracked tremors of the hobbit to fix his gaze coldly upon Anborn " My people are most grateful for your service, you shall be rewarded with riches and passage south." The Corsair cap't turned abruptly from the men and knelt down to look over his prize once more. Frodo, eyes wide open at last, the shock of his newest torment reflected in his glassy stare, strained to inch away from the hands of the cap't. Keldor reached forward and firmly grasped the Hobbits shoulder with one hand as he coldly ran his other hand over the frail body of the Ringbearer. Frodo grimaced in pain as Keldor's hand came in contact with the filthy dressings of his infected leg." Ah yes Firngil, I see your pain....no matter my young slave, you'll have little need of this limb soon...and you'll not miss it" he said in a detached voice "you'll not even know yourself, as a slave of my men". The Corsair cap't continued his assessment, hands running over every limb and body part, as if checking lifestock for market. Before he stood to leave he reached to grasp Frodo by the chin and turned his face, cold black eyes staring into the unfocused watery blue of the Hobbit's gaze."You are a corsair slave now Firngil, your life shall depend upon your ability to please the men in charge, see that you do not disappoint and you may live" he told the Hobbit coldly. As the Cap't stood to walk away he heard a soft voice "I should...should rather die than please your kind" Frodo slurred brokenly. Keldor turned back, raising one eyebrow he smirked "you shall soon sing a different song my slave, a very different song." he said softly then began to laugh as he and Anborn walked away.

Keldor strode to his horse and untied another pouch from his saddlebag, he tossed it to Anborn. The Ruffian recognized the sickly sweet smell at once and he wrinkled his nose distastefully. "More?" he said "I've already given the half high so much he can barely see straight." Keldor nodded "yes, and you shall give him more." "More?" Anborn snorted "why it'll kill 'im if he takes too much more 'o this ." Keldor cocked his head to one side and smirked, a slow grin covering his dark features "no, it will not kill him....we shall do that in good time. What it will do is leave him begging for it, his body, at such a high dose is already tricking itself into believing he can't live without it. He will soon do anything," he paused and smiled evilly "anything to maintain a constant flow of this in his body." Keldor put his foot into the stirrup and gabbed the pommel of his saddle as he swung his leg up and adjusted himself in the saddle he said "I will be back in two days, that should give you enough time to build his bodies need for our 'enticement'. See that you don't miss a dose." he said curtly and with that and a flick of his reins he was soon gone from sight as he disappeared into the early evening shadows.

Aragorn was weary, he'd been astride Brego for most of the day. He shifted uncomfortably in saddle, stretching weary muscles as he looked down to his traveling companion, he thought of the last hours. Durzak had been easy to persuade, as the King had walked to the Orc's enclosure and had heard the struggles emanating from inside, he had known what he would ask the Orc. He had brushed his soldiers aside, and had been able to convince Durzak with very little effort to accompany him. "The Ringbearer needs you" was all he'd said and Durzak had stopped his struggling and motioned quietly for Aragorn to untie him. The King had done just that and they had slipped quietly from the confines of the camp. Aragorn had feared an argument with Faramir, so he had instructed his guards to tell Faramir that the Orc had been moved to a more secure location, by order of the King, and they had left. That had been 10 hours ago and he still was dutifully following the only lead he had to where the Ringbearer might be. Durzak walked steadily, head bowed and shoulders hunched in fatigue, he had but one mission, find his master. If the ringbearer were found, then that is where Qurag would be. He followed his instincts, and his nose, for he'd been trained as a tracker in Mordor, and he knew he'd never forget the scent of his master. They traveled on, through the lengthening shadows and into the dusk when suddenly Durzak halted and pointed to a spot in the distance "Qurag once there" he grunted.

Aragorn urged Brego on at a faster pace and soon reached the spot ahead of a stumbling Durzak. He got down from his mount and perused the ground before him carefully. There was sign of a struggle here. He walked about the perimeter of the sight, hoof prints from a pony, the soft padded imprints of hobbit feet and the disturbance of the brush that indicated an Orc had lay there. He tried to put the pieces together in his mind, it seemed unlikely that Frodo would have found a pony to ride upon, and besides the Hobbit prints were of two intact feet and he knew that Frodo was no longer so built. He turned as Durzak approached the sight and waited for him to sniff the surrounding air, time hung before him, the weight of his unasked questions heavy upon his spirit, he looked expectantly at the Orc. "Qurag here, not same little one" he grunted. Aragorn nodded and thought to himself 'it 'tis Sam then, Sam has found Qurag'. He wandered a bit past their struggle in the brush to a spot where small indentations splattered about were the telltale signs of water used to bathe, he knelt down and saw the faint blackened tinge of blood and realized that Sam was in some way aiding an injured Orc. Durzak sniffed the same thing and motioned they should continue. As the sun set the two determined travelers made their way through the barren landscape, each lost in their own mental image of pain and their need to rescue those they cared for.

The flickering light of the fire cast a small shadow upon the backdrop of rocks which sheltered them. Sam had reluctantly taken the advice of the darkly serious Orc he traveled with, and had decided that the danger of missing the trail was too great with the cover of darkness, so they stopped. Sam had heated some water, washed Qurag's gashes and cuts once more and set about bandaging him when a dark clawed hand reached gently to cover his. "Not need" he grunted "save for little one, he need". Sam nodded dumbly and wondered for the thousandth time what state he would find his dear friend in,_ if_ he found him. He put the cloths down and set about making a quick camp meal of a spit roasted ptarmigan. He handed a large portion to the Orc and looked away in disgust as his companion ate the carcass, bones and all. He tried to distract himself, to cover the disgust he felt watching this seemingly gentle Orc eat so efficiently and so he began to ask questions. He soon learned of Frodo's actions in the mine, his skill with the blasting caps, his defense of the children, his brush with death as the mine collapsed and his bravery while seeing Qurag left for dead in the vast desert falling slowly behind them. The steady heart of the Hobbit champion ached with pain for the master he'd grown through his young life to love. As he ate the remainder of his share of the meal he glanced up to the stars above. His heart began to race and a roaring filled his ears as he watched a lone star fall from the distant heavens never to grace the black velvet blanket above again. He stifled a sob as he had a sudden sense of fear and foreboding..... ' a star died master, a star died and I canna help but thinking it were your star I saw fall tonight...oh please Mr. Frodo, don't fall my friend, don't fall.'


	37. Chapter 37: Rescuing

Chapter 37: Rescuing

Disclaimer: All rights of character ownership belong to JRR Tolkien....he is a great guy for letting us all borrow from his genius!

Endymion2...hope you have a lovely holiday and thanks for reading! Yes, the Corsair learns his lesson a little late I'm afraid! He may lose his prize, but will he himself get away?

BraellyraLeatherleaf...Can I possibly make your day twice in one week? I certainly hope so!

Our two heros ( or will there be more?) Are on a fast track to a rescue....What state will Frodo be in when he is found? And to what lengths will they have to go to keep the ringbearer with them? You shall see, oh yes, you shall see...

Kellie....oops, didn't mean to be "short" with you in my reply...after all, you are very kind to review at all and what kind of a writer would I be if I could n't accept criticisms or suggestions?

Yes, I do get intense at times....I guess I see the pain of body,spirit and pride symbolic of the unjustness of the world....that sometimes those wanting to help most, with the most heart are the ones who are "trampled" on since the world views them as soft or weak....we all know our Hobbit is neither soft nor weak but there are those who will take advantage of this small body despite his strength of mind and will. A warning....this is also an "intense" chapter...some explicit content....written purely to show the depths to which the forces of evil have brought Frodo....to the verge of madness...the next few chapters will show the growing mistrust Sam develops for the world of Men, the strength of those small and the nobility of spirit that lurks where it is least looked for....enjoy!

TTTurtle....I appreciate you comments and your dedication to this story.....I have many ideas and have organized and re-organized them yet each time I sit down to write I find that the story has a heart of it's own and it takes me places, as it takes you....one chapter at a time! Yes I will continue to write, it is ever so much better than watching TV!

Warning...this chapter brings our diminutive hero to a new "low"....his road to recovery can not begin until he has hit the depths of his despair....so keep reading, but be warned...it may be "intense"!

The night air was chill and with little brush about the barren terrain to soften the motions of the breeze, the cool air was piercing . Sam watched the flickering flames of the fire, each puff of wind made the flames dance first to one side, then another. A particularly chill breeze fanned the flames and he felt himself shiver. As he mechanically added another stick to the fire he looked over at his sleeping companion. The muscled legs and arms were pulled into his chest and he lay sleeping like a child in the comfort and snugness of their bed.'Like ta Mr. Frodo's way of sleeping that is' the exhausted hobbit thought as he contemplated the dance of the flames before him. Sam, swallowed the lump of fear and misery in his throat and tried to recall happier times, for he couldn't bear to think of his Frodo alone and in pain on this chill night. He leaned back against the protective backdrop of the boulder and closed his eyes. He thought of Frodo, the charming Frodo of little worry and bright tales, the wise Frodo who spent hours lost in his books and wrote fanciful tales that enraptured the wee ones of the village. He found himself smiling, the thought of Frodo with hobbitlings at his feet brought a warm and peaceful feeling to the troubled servant. He grabbed that image and willed it to grow within him, seeking comfort in his storm of pain and fear. He saw a serious Frodo lad leading a band of stick wielding adventurers into the cellars of Bag End on yet another journey to capture Smaug, a smiling Frodo tween down on one knee soothing a crying lad with a skinned elbow, a gaily laughing young Master Frodo arms wrapped about his cousins shoulders listening to one of their many scrapes, a pale faced and sweating Frodo whose pain was evident in every step struggling to walk after his accident, a loving and gentle Mr. Frodo pledging his troth to the light of his life beneath his favorite Willow. Sam felt the lump in his throat growing as he fought back his sadness and despair, 'Oh Mr. Frodo, why you? Why 'tis it your lot ta bear such pain? Can I not take some for ya ...I would gladly take it all if I could Master' he thought with a heavy sigh. He clenched his eyes closed tighter and lay down upon his side, praying for the peace of sleep to sooth his uneasy mind.

A moment later he felt a cool calloused hand cover his mouth and his eyes flew open in surprise to see Qurag kneeling beside him "shh " he gestured soundlessly to Sam and then pointed to the approaching shadows beside the boulder. Sam's eyes opened wide in fear and he eyed the security of Sting leaning against the far rock face. Qurag motioned Sam to stay down, to pretend to sleep and he crept around the other side of the boulder. Sam watched through the crack of barely opened eyes as the shadow grew closer and waited to be discovered. A sudden crash and a grunt of pain exploded into the silence of the night. Sam scuttled back to the rock face to reach for Sting as two bodies rolled into view. Qurag was struggling to subdue a man garbed as a ranger with dark hair and a grey cloak. Sam popped quickly to his feet and ran to the fray "no Qurag, it 'tis the King....Strider....no this Orc 'tis friend not foe...." As Sam yelled he struggled to pull the enraged Orc off of the flailing form of the King. He grabbed hold of Qurag's hair and yanked, only to be brushed aside and he tried again "stop it, stop it I tell ya..." he grabbed sting and brought it down with a yowl, embedding it in the ground within an inch of the Kings face as Qurag slowly realized the body beneath him was not struggling he stopped and rolled away. The three of them stared at one another across the dying embers of the fire " yer help would be most useful Strider fighten' thems that need fighten" Sam said with a gleam in his eye and hands firmly crossed before him "not us Sir, we're on your side". The sandy haired hobbit smiled and ran to throw his arms about the panting and disheveled King upon the ground.

Aragorn laughed and tousled Sam's fifthly hair then putting both hands upon his shoulders held the hobbit away to see his face "Sam" he said "it is good to see you my friend." He quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head in the direction of the dust covered Qurag "will you introduce me to your friend?" Sam blushed and mumbled his apologies and helping his King to sit up he made the introductions. Qurag looked Aragorn over warily, he had been given no reason to trust the world of men, and was slow to warm up to him. Aragorn, seeing the suspicion upon Qurag's face made haste to thank the Orc " Qurag, my Kingdom is indebted to you for all you've done to help the Ringbearer ". Qurag nodded "Little one brave" he grunted " I see his spirit". Aragorn nodded "then that shall be our bond Qurag, for I too see and hold dear this spirit.". Sam sensing the dissipating tension sought to get the two of them to sit and share their stories about the fire that he'd been busy tending as they'd exchanged their first words.

The three of them sat around the fire and listened to one another's tales. Aragorn explained that Durzak was scouting up ahead, that the tracker had caught a scent of something that concerned him and he was circling back to investigate. "I did not expect such a greeting or I would have waited and brought your companion with me" he said with a faint smile in Qurag's direction. The Orc was filled with questions and soon Aragorn was explaining all that had happened at camp and why he was out traversing the desert land with only the lone Orc for company.

As Aragorn was finishing his explanation a slight rustling could be heard and Durzak rounded the boulder. With soft grunt he came to Qurags place, their eyes locked and held, Qurag clasped his fellow Orc upon the shoulder, the contact of their eyes speaking all that words could not then letting his hand drop, he motioned for Durzak to squat beside him and began to describe the events that had happened. Aragorn listened with a stony face, yet inside his emotions were in turmoil. He glanced sideways to watch the pitted and scarred dark skinned figure beside him. The Orc's muscles were lean, strong and tense, the appearance of a cat ready to spring as he squatted by the fire. Aragorn wondered that such bravery could exist in the creatures he'd grown so to despise. Yet, as Qurag's tales continued and Aragorn heard of Frodo's torment at the hands of the men who held him, he felt a growing hatred for the people of his own race and did not blame the Orc for his suspicions. He looked to Sam's face during Qurag's tale and felt his hand reach to grab the young Hobbit and pull him into a loose embrace as Qurag told of how Frodo had bartered for Qurag's life. Sam, pale and trembling, fought to master his tears 'he's not needin' yer tears you ninnyhammer' he told himself 'he needs ya to be strong Samwise....be strong, I can do that for you Mr. Frodo, I can' he vowed to himself. Aragorn felt Sams posture stiffen and watched as his face set into a mask of hatred and stoic understanding.

As their tales were finished, the sun began to make it's way up, the rosy hues of morning slowly spreading across the sky. Aragorn looked to the sunrise and said "this day we rescue our friend, no more will we allow the evil of men to hold sway over the spirit and life of Frodo Baggins." He gestured for all to come closer and drew a rough map upon the ground at their feet. Sam watched as Aragorn sketched distant mountain bluffs, a winding river and an expanse of gradually changing desert terrain in the dirt at his feet. "This is the spot, here on the River where we sent the last of the three corsair ships." he said making an 'x' on his map, and here is the bluff from which the bend of the river and water in many miles both west and east can be seen" he added as he tapped the spot with stick thoughtfully. He turned to Qurag "How many men did Anborn have when last you saw him?" The Orc snarled as he replied "There are three, not big number, sick with evil hearts, ready to hurt the little one for sport." Aragorn pursed his lips, shook his head sadly and stood to walk around the boulder. The other three got up from their spots by the map to follow the King. Aragorn pointed west "that is our path Qurag, their numbers may not be great, but if they are camped where I predict them to be, it will not be possible to sneak up on them over the usual terrain." Sam was growing impatient "well, we'll not get the job done jest talking it through, 'tis the job first started that 'tis fastest done is what the Gaffer always said" he said with a firm set to his lips and a hardness in his eyes. Aragorn turned to place a comforting hand upon the hobbit's shoulder "your Gaffer is a wise soul Sam, let's be off then" and so saying he helped Sam clamber upon Bregos broad back and climbed to the saddle behind him. Aragorn noted the slight shaking of Sam's hands upon the pommel of the saddle and he wrapped a protective arm about him "You shall be safe Sam, I'll not let Brego give you need for fear my friend." Sam nodded solemnly and tried to stop the trembling in his limbs " 'tis grateful I am to ya Sir,but it is not fer me I am fearful if you catch my meaning ".

Aragorn wrapped his arm more tightly about the Ringbearer's friend and servant and they set off across the bleak landscape.

Frodo lay drenched in the sweat of fever, his mind lost to the numbness of the opiates, he felt little pain, just a sense of disconnectedness. He seemed to watch as if from a distance, as if he traveled through his mind outside his body as he sensed all that happened to him. He was only dimly aware of Anborns forcing more of the sickening sweet paste into his mouth, of Thad 's impatience as his stupor made even the simplest task of swallowing water impossible, of Mendals attempts to force him to eat and anger when he vomited what little they did manage to get him to swallow. He lay in dirt and filth, flies buzzed about him and ants crawled upon him as his mind gradually became as useless as the rest of his body had become. He was empty, no spirit, no feelings of pain or notions of disgust, he was a shell who only noticed the waves of stupor brought about by the opiates. He began to cling to his lethargy and the bleakness of his spirit, to long for the heightened moments of peace and nothingness brought about by the death flower, he noted only the passing of time as his doses were given to him.

Anborn watched with a smile as he witnessed the transformation of his prisoner. No longer did the Hobbit fight off his attempts to wrench open his jaw to force the paste upon his tongue, now the halfhigh opened his mouth willingly, eagerly it seemed to the eyes of the ruffian and he

knew that Keldor's plan was working. He watched the hobbit weakly open his mouth for his next dose and decided to put Keldor's theories to the test. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of the hobbit and took a bucket of water from a nearby stream and threw it upon him. He brought Thad and Mendal over to watch and laughed as he doused the hobbit once more with another bucket of water. "Untie his hands Thad, the rattling reeks, lets give 'im a good washin afore his new master takes'im" Anborn ordered. Thad, only too eager to join in the fun quickly cut the cords that bound Frodo's hands behind his back and with a kick of his foot forced the Hobbit to roll to his stomach so his feet could be untied as well. Frodo moaned weakly from the sensation of pins and needles that coursed down his shoulders and arms as he was pulled to a sitting position and leaned awkwardly against a nearby tree, he fought against his consciousness, willing his eyes to stay closed to the troubles of his body. He had no strength to sit up and soon, much to the amusement of his captors, fell over into the mud and filth he had lay in moments before. Anborn laughed too a moment and then grew impatient. He walked to the

hobbit with one more bucket of water and set it beside him as he leaned him up once more. He tangled his fingers in the greasy lengths of his dark curls and with a gleam in his eyes turned to the others and said "Shall we wash his hair lads?" and with that brought the Hobbits head into the bucket totally submerging him as he held his head down.

Frodo felt pressure building in his chest, he twitched briefly as his body began to note the details of his drowning, his eyes opened at long last to be met by the blurring of murky water. Flashing lights danced before him and the tightness in his chest built till he was aware of the sensation of pain and he feebly brought his hand up and tried to push away from the bucket. He heard distant laughter, muffled sounds assailing his ears as his weakened body tried once more to lift his head from the water. Just as he felt all begin to go black he was yanked back and thrown to the ground coughing and vomiting up the water forced into his lungs during his struggles. The three men laughed as Frodo lay there weakly gasping and choking . Anborn smiled, a cold and calculating smile and took the oiled pouch of poppy from his pocket. He knelt by the pain wracked hobbit, dangling the pouch just before the glassy blue gaze he taunted him. "Seems he's dirty again lads....what do you say rattling...a trade, we give you another 'bath' and I give you your 'medicine'. " Frodo tried to sort the choice before him, but his mind heard no choice that mattered, he heard only he'd be given more medicine...the price his body was to pay was of no consequence, so badly did his mind crave the peace and nothingness of the death flower. He stared blankly at the figure beside him and slowly nodded. Thad and Mendal laughed in delight at the specter before them as Anborn twisted his cruel smile a bit more "I did not hear you asking for it my sweet, what did you say you'd like me to do to ya?" Frodo tried to start his tongue moving, knew he'd have to force his lips around the words and he slowly croaked " bath please...I, I want a..another bath." Anborn obliged and the three laughed uproariously as a soon unconscious Frodo was pulled from the bucket. Anborn watched as the limp body convulsively spit what water he could from his lungs, bile and vomit dripped from his lips as Anborn kicked the frail body to ensure that it was laying on it's side. "I'd not want ye ta choke on yer vomit my noble halfhigh" then with a smile of triumph he forced open the hobbits lips and smeared the promised paste upon the roof of his mouth. In his mind Frodo felt a wave of peace and a sigh of contentment escaped his chapped and filthy lips. As he faded once more to oblivion he heard Thads voice "wonder what else he'll do fer it eh?" as the three men laughed once more.

Aragorn and the others moved carefully through the brush, he did not want to miss any signs and he frequently dismounted to check markers upon the trail. At one point he found a length of blood encrusted rope left near a stand of trees and the evidence of punishment as blood tipped switches were tossed to the bushes. Sam's face grew white then red with anger and Aragorn had been forced to pull Sam from Brego's back before the horse grew nervous from the hobbit's rantings. Once he had Sam calmed, he gave the length of rope to Durzak to sniff and then the Orc was able to guide them on their path. The going was still slow, far slower than what Sam wanted, but Aragorn would not risk losing the trail and he kept them to a steady pace. They did not stop for an evening meal, munched upon Lembas from Sam's pack instead as the Orcs brought down a few rabbits and ate them as they walked.

As the sun set the distant outline of the mountains could be seen and Aragorn once more stopped the band of travelers to discuss their next move. "We need to come at them from the river side, yet I have no exact knowledge of where they are and fear we would be spotted in daylight." He looked to the Orcs who nodded in agreement and Aragon continued "I suggest that our best plan of action is to go through the pass of Uldor and hope that we come close to the river Anduin, near, but not too near the bluff where their camp is likely to be located." Thus agreed the four of them set out, using what light the gibbous moon offered and thankful that the path was fairly unencumbered by obstacles. Towards Midnight, as Sam nearly fell from Brego in his exhaustion, Aragorn called a halt and they rested in a crevice by a stream that lead into the distant river. The Orcs took this time to seek out any nocturnal animal that could be easily taken by strength of hand,both needing not just the sustenance of the hunt, but the time to be together

. While the Orcs were off on their hunting foray and Sam dozed fitfully by his side, Aragorn pondered their next move. He worried that the light of day would make their approach to the camp too visible, and knew that they might be forced to scale the wall of the bluff, a path that Anborn and his men would not think to watch. He wondered at the climbing ability of the larger and heavier Orcs. Soon he heard the soft steps of the Orcs as they returned and he bent to gently wake Sam. "Sam, time to go now" he said in a hushed voice as he softly stroked his back. Sam woke instantly from his slumber and groused "Why'd ya let me sleep Strider, ye said yerself that night was best time to approach" so saying he stood and dusted himself off. He strode towards Brego and Aragorn silently walked behind him, helped him up and in a moment they were on their way again.

The deepness of night gave way to a gradual lightening in the sky as the moon began it's gradual fall over the far horizon. What little light this fading moon offered, was just enough to cover the actions of Thad as he crept towards the prone Hobbit. He knew that Anborn had forbade any pleasurin' sport, but the sight of the helpless hobbit, shirt drenched and creamy skin showing through it's numerous tears had been too much for him. He couldn't get the thought of the Hobbit from his mind, so as the others slept he approached the spot were the trembling Hobbit lie somnolent in his drugged slumber and with a last look towards his sleeping companions, he quietly bent and slung the diminutive rattling upon his shoulder and he sought a spot in the nearby trees that would afford him some small measure of privacy.

He reached the trees and let the limp form of the hobbit roll from his shoulder, hitting the ground with a soft 'hmpf'. He knelt beside him and unsheathing his knife he began to cut the bonds with which he was once more tied. He started with the feet and felt his way up the slender body till he reached the hands and those too he cut. He looked at his prize. In the slight shimmer of the moon Frodo's pale skin glowed with a vibrancy and beauty that was a wonder to behold 'like the fair folk 'e is' Thad thought as he looked at the delicate features and finely sculpted body, perfect in it's miniature dimensions. He felt himself growing aroused and with a growl he knelt to taste the fairness of the frail and limp hobbit beneath him. He pulled the limp body towards him and wrapped his arms about him from behind as he nibbled the slender neck. With a moan the ran his large coarsened hands over the pale and bruised chest, impatiently doing away with any button in it's path with a sharp tug. He felt the hobbit stir against him and saw the flicker of pale eyelids that signaled his awakening state. With a grin of predatory delight, lay him down and settled full upon him. Thad looked into the glassy stare of his eyes "did ye miss me love?" he asked as his hand ran the length of his chest and over his hip, around to the tight buttocks and he bent to nibble his ear as Frodo began to, from somewhere deep inside him, realize what torment he was soon to endure once more, and he began to moan and try to twist from side to side.. Thad was further aroused by the movement and he grabbed Frodo's face " 'yer eyes," Thad said "yer eyes are enough ta make any poor beast want ya" he said and he bent to cover the hobbit's lips with his own and brutally bit and bruised his lips with the force of his teeth and lips.

Frodo had been roused from his lethargy by a sudden sensation of pain in his shoulder as he hit the ground with a thud, moments later he was dimly aware that he was no longer tied. He drifted into himself once more, only to be roused from his stupor once more as he felt the weight of another upon him and the cool evening air upon the bareness of his chest. He struggled to open his eyes and through his drug induced haze he saw the leering face of Thad and heard his voice from a distance. He tried to crawl back into his mind, to shut out this assault upon his conscious self, but the man was too insistent. He felt his mouth covered, ravaging, biting and forced so hard upon him that he could hear the click of the mans teeth upon his own. He tried to command his body, to make his head move to shake the man from him, but he could not. All he could was lie there and wait for it to stop. Thad soon lifted his head and smiling his self satisfied smile he bent down once more to lick a trail of blood that ran from the hobbit's torn lips as his hand traveled across the pale fairness of the frail shining creature below him. "You're beautiful" he moaned as he breathed heavily in Frodo's face and fumbled with his breeches. reaching down to tug on Frodo's breeks "let me show you how a real man appreciates your kind" he panted as the helpless hobbit gasped and tried to call out. Thad stopped his cry with another bruising kiss and Frodo felt crushed by the force as the intrusive tongue of the ruffian blocked his attempts to protest and he trembled violently in his panic.

"No" a cold voice came from behind Thad "Let me remind you of our laws, Firngil is a Corsair now, he is to be touched by none other." Thad, angered by the interruption, tried to roll from the prone hobbit beneath him and with a snarl he was about to reply when he felt a hand grab his hair roughly and draw a dagger across his windpipe. He was dead as his body landed once more upon the hobbit, blood spewing from his neck. Frodo felt rather than saw the limp bloody body dragged from him as he faded once more to oblivion and he was once more hoisted to a mans shoulder and bourne back to camp.

The light of the moon shone less brightly now as the night headed towards it's brush with morning, Keldor headed towards the glowing embers of the camp fire and dropped the hobbit, upon his side, close beside the fire. The Corsair cap't squatted by the fire, he ran the tip of his dagger through the heat of the embers and turned back to the limp figure beside him "once more I must mark my property it would seem"he muttered with a twinge of detached annoyance. With an agile twist he had Frodo's neck wrapped snug in his arm, the back of his neck bare to Keldors touch. The Corsair cap't blew the hair aside and choose a smooth patch of skin near the puckered reminder of another injury, and brutally carved the letter "F" in the delicate fair skin.

Frodo's screams woke the rest of the camp, Mendal and Anborn shook the sleep from their eyes and grabbed their swords reflexively as they leaped towards the fire. The Corsair Cap't stood, black eyes filled with loathing as he kicked the panting and moaning form of the blood drenched hobbit from him. Anborn was the first to speak "what have ya done ta him?" he queried with a look of disgust in his eyes. Keldor wiped his dagger upon the fabric of his richly brocaded cloak and carefully placed it in it's sheath. "I merely marked what is mine, once more I might add" as he stared towards the melted flesh and gold hoop in the hobbits ear. "The blood, all that blood" Anborn said with a question in his voice as he took in the ripped shirt drenched in blood. "Unavoidable" Keldor said as he motioned Anborn to sit and took his time seating himself upon the ground. "Meaning what?" Anborn snapped, still standing and becoming frustrated with the Corsairs answers. "Meaning that Firngil is my property and I acted to protect him from being 'used' by one of your men...the penalty for touching a Corsair without invitation is death." Anborn motioned with a tilt of his head to Mendal who went off in search of Thad, returning moments later white and shaken "Dead Anborn, his head's near cut off".

Anborn's fury was evident as he faced the swarthy cap't. "That'll cost ya" snapped the angry ruffian," I've just upped my price on the halfhigh". Keldor cooly raised a single eyebrow and said"and I have just reduced mine, it seems my property's been used, I don't like to share my playthings Anborn." The Ruffian lunged toward Keldor with a growl, but instead of reaching the Corsair, he grabbed the Ringbearer by the hair and yanked him into his arms. Frodo felt himself dangling in the air, and he fought once more to open his eyes. Anborn readjusted his prisoner and gripped him now by the neck, which he slowly squeezed as he placed his dagger upon the delicate skin of the hobbit's windpipe. Frodo was lost in the swirling shadows of his mind, the darkness called to him, it beckoned and it's call was stronger than his wish to come to the surface of his conciousness once more. As he felt the air slowly leave his body, he made one last attempt to look upon the world that had caused him so much pain, eyes of blue met eyes of black behind the gently flickering flames of the campfire and Frodo saw his death as he turned his sight inward to the solace of his soul.

Anborn backed towards the edge of the bluff and he sneered "yer property he won't be much longer Keldor...it's the full price or it's a dead treat ye'll be bringing back to your men." The Corsair felt his cool demeanor vanish as a quick glance to Firngil's glazed blue eyes ignited a passion inside him and he became enraged as he drew his sword "You do not want a Corsair as your enemy Anborn, now give him over,...Firngil is mine, or I'll see you hunted to the ends of all lands" he promised. Anborn laughed bitterly "oh ye'll have to do better than that, for hunted I already am my friend...now it's the full price...or" the ruffian gestured to the bluff behind him. The pale morning was just beginning and faint wisps of clouds could be seen on the horizon. Anborn backed up one more step and Keldor, seeing that the man meant what he said tried with fumbling apologies and protests to distract him. Just then Frodo, whose air supply had diminished to a point of near suffocation started to gag and Anborn took a second to change his grip, grasping him instead about the waist. That second was all Keldor needed and he lunged forward and thrust his blade to strike the ruffian in his shoulder. Anborn's howl of rage was heard as an echo down the river valley and he, with one snap of his wrist and thrust of his arm sent the nearly dead body of the ringbearer over the edge.

Sam had perched upon the ledge on the lip of the bluff, poised to creep over the edge when the signal was given. The bird call Sam was waiting for never came and precious minutes ticked by until Sam heard Frodo's bloodcurdling scream and nearly scrambled to the top bird call or no. He was stopped by the firm hand of Aragorn who was crouched beside him. A frantic motion of his hand and Aragorn pressed Sam closer to the wall. The angry voices up above could be heard and Sam suddenly recalled his nightmare., this bluff, a glassy eyed Frodo and an angry ruffian. Eyes wide with fear he motioned up to Aragorn and whispered frantically "he'll throw Frodo over the edge" Aragorn, for the breadth of a second ,was torn between telling Sam to be quiet once more and asking him how he knew such a thing when the voices rose and a bellow of pain alerted them to a strike that had hit it's mark. "Aragorn" Sam screamed and the Ranger turned from Sam's white face in time to lunge to the edge of their tiny ledge and grab frantically at the bundle of bloodied rags that flew seemingly just out of his reach. But with a last grunt of effort and Sam holding the King's cloak Aragorn felt his hand happen upon a grabbing point and his body was nearly jerked from the ledge with the momentum of Frodo's falling body. Sam yelled in terror "pull 'im back, don't you let go...don't let go" he pleaded and with a last gasp of effort Aragorn felt his hand tightened about the slender wrist of the ringbearer. With a sigh of relief that soon turned to a shudder of pain he pulled Frodo up and leaned exhausted into the relative safety of the dirt wall behind him.

The King held the emaciated body tight in his arms "no Frodo" he said softly, his words a sad echo of his heart. Sam, reached to stroke Frodo's bruised and blood stained cheek, the pad of his thumb coming to rest gently upon the ripped and swollen lips of his childhood friend and mentor

"Oh me dear, what have they done?" he whispered brokenly as he took in the sight of his gentle friend and master "what have they done ta ya now?". Aragorn stared in horror at the bundle of rags in his arms, dirt and blood encrusted clothing, bleeding wounds and shallow labored breaths brought him back to the cool sun of Cormallen. 'I can not make this choice again Gandalf' he pleaded in his mind 'help me my old friend, help me guide our Ringbearer to his destiny, help me make the right choice this time.'


	38. chapter 38: Falling

Chapter 38: Falling

Diclaimer: The characters are the property of JRR Tolkien....a spinner of great tales....

**TTTurtle**: Thanks for the kind words and the thoughts about spacing....somehow the format on FF always looks different than it does when I save it as a html doc on my computer....oh well...I will try to space more...I'll try to get back to my "weekly" schedule!

**BraellyaLeatherleaf**...Yes, out lad has been saved from the ruffians....but who will save him from himself? I shall try to make your day more regularly!

**Kellie**....sorry this took so long...it's not that I'm out of ideas...it's the whole "time" thing! I'll try to get to my once a weekish schedule...thanks for your continued interest and yes, ding dong the ruffians are gone....now the real work begins for the fellowship!

**Renee**...wow, glad I made you so happy...let's hope this one is worth the wait! Frodo has some choices ahead as you will see....and yes, the people who love him will be very important....but which ones will he "lean" towards?

**CLotr**....I am very pleased that you like my story...I hope it is a welcome respite from the stresses of college life...I agree about the thesaurus...unfortunately I tend to write late at night when my mind is not as sharp as I would like and I have misplaced the thesaurus....I shall have to bring one home from work or buy another....let me know if my word usage is getting any more (or less) interesting....the words I find used most often now revolve areoun concepts of "pain" and "panic"....any good suggestions?

**Endymion2**...our lad has some tough choices ahead of him....which way will he turn? I have many ideas for the malicious Corsair Keldor....and many in the fellowship will play a part...perhaps even Orcs!

**Lovethosehobbits**....here it is! Sorry so late....can't believe that three weeks has gone by so quickly...yikes...thanks for the kind words....enjoy!

**Julia Baggins**...not the end...a brief pause I'm afraid....but I hope to be working on a once a week to ten days kind of schedule from here on out!

**Shire Baggins**....Frodo needs comfort badly...but now all he can do is turn to his own newly discovered or fostered internal comfort...how will Sam and Aragorn break through Frodo's walls of pain and depression?

The Orcs crouched in the shadow of a stand of nearby trees. Qurag was working to control his labored breathes, their furtive jog up the hill, dashing to hide at a moments notice, as they'd watched Keldor leave his camp of men in the river lowlands, had been very difficult for him in his state of injury and malnourishment. Durzak eyed his master with concern and turned to say so when Qurag motioned him to be quiet. They turned their attention to the tableau playing out before them. As the light of the early day broke through Qurag finally saw the figure of the little one upon the ground. He watched with curious detachment as the blood coated hobbit was once more branded in the traditions of brutal creatures everywhere. He, in the past. had felt no shame in such brandings as his body bore many times over the scars that Frodo now had. Yet he steeled himself for the cry of pain that he knew would come from the shattered and frail body held within the Corsair's grip. The hobbit's scream had awakened feelings in him, feelings of pain and pity, and he felt himself shudder with his desire to throw himself upon the swarthy man who caused his little one such agony. Yet the Orc, well versed in the ways of evil, dared not move for fear the ruffian would end the life of the tale teller he'd grown to think of as his friend. He anxiously watched the heated debate between the two leaders and wanted to give his signal to allow the dusty sun haired hobbit and the King the clearance they needed to enter the conflict before him. He decided that the ringbearer's best chance lie with stealth and surprise, and so he waited.

He did not need to wait overly long as the action of the debate before him grew more dangerous, and as he made move to stand and rush the figures by the fire, Durzak clasped his arm to restrain him, fearing for the life of his companion. Qurag watched, his body stilled in fear as his heart thudded the slow agony of his thoughts as his friend and spirit brother was dragged towards the edge of the bluff. Within seconds the Corsair had delivered the first strike, drawing first blood from the figure of Anborn and with horror Qurag watched his world slow and felt his heart thump painfully in his chest as Frodo was flung from the scuffle over the edge of the bluff with nary a sign of discomfort, his limp and quiet body an image that would haunt the Orc for many moons of memories. Qurag heard the muffled cries and the faint voice of the stocky hobbit and the Ranger King with ears finely attuned to all about him and realized that Durzak too had become aware of the presence of the other members of their group. He allowed his Orc bodyguard to retain control of his body's chance for survival and he resisted the burning temptation to rush to the edge of the bluff.

Just then the rustle of nearby brush alerted the Orcs to stay low and they watched as the other ruffian in the camp made his way quietly to where the horses were tethered. Mendal was seeking his escape, he could see the anger in Anborn's eyes and knew that the Corsair would not be denied. The menacing thug looked one way and another as he crept towards the tether line and the hidden presence of the Orcs. He decided to make his way back down the mountain, to take his chances with the desert as he tried to find Dalmer and his men once more. He stealthily untied all the horses from the tether line and with an evil twisted sneer of his lips, began to swing his leg up to the stirrup.

Qurag, now caught between the vision of two evils, a man of cowardice consumed by greed and a man of unreasoning anger wild in his hatred, weighed the potential outcome of his intended action, whistled shrilly and shoved Durzak towards the fleeing man as he ran to the bluff's edge. The hatred of Keldor and Anborn was reaching it's climax, the tall Ruffian allowing his rage to win out against the cool detachment of his opponent. As Qurag broke into the clearing the flash of Keldor's sword in the shimmer of the early morning sun, caught Anborn full force in it's glare and he stumbled, blinded by both emotion and the brilliance of light unshielded. Keldor, with a final bellow of frustration and anger thrust and parried Anborn's weakened defences and with a mighty swing of his sturdy blade caught Anborn across the breadth of his chest. The snarling former leader of Lord Faramir's guard dropped his sword in the shock of his sudden vulnerability and staggered backwards.

Keldor, with a slowly growing grin of triumph toyed with his disarmed opponent and once more felt the satisfaction of blade meeting flesh and bone as he sank his sword once more in the side of his target. Anborn, a gasp of disbelief coming at last from his shocked lips, found his backward momentum increase as his eyes began to dim. The Corsair Captain, at that moment, noticed the now fully emerged form of the Orc from the rim of the sheltering trees and he lifted an eyebrow in surprise, nodding once to Anborn in mocking acknowledgment of his own danger, he spun and fled to where he'd tied his own horse at the entrance of the camp.

As Qurag moved slowly forward, his body seemingly mired in mud for all the speed his mind leant him, Anborn fell back at last and with a groan found himself teetering upon the very edge of the bluff from which he'd cast aside the life of the hobbit who'd caused him such pain and disgrace. Qurag dove to reach the flailing arm of the man as he disappeared over the edge of the embankment, landing with a loud 'ummpf' upon the hard packed earth as his hand met at last the sleeve of his human tormentor.

Anborn, looking through eyes already darkening with death, refused to be halted and even as Qurag struggled to pull the man from the abyss, he went rigid and then pulled away with all his might, growling "never, never will I be saved by the spawn of Saron....may ye rot and find yer pain in the depths of mans sorrow and hatred" he snarled as he, with a last show of strength shrugged himself from the grip of his rescuer and opening his arms wide welcomed the release of his death, his silent fall and grotesquely sneering countenance a testament to the justice of his end.

The Orc looked with pained distaste upon the sight of Anborn's body sprawled upon the rocks below, the man had lived his life in hate and misery, a part of Qurag could not but welcome his death, while another, seeking to see the world through eyes of hope, mourned the senseless cost of hate. As the saddened Orc looked over the edge of the bluff he became slowly aware of movement within the periphery of his vision and he turned his head abruptly to see the King, eyes red with dust, pain and emotion, motion to Sam as together they sought to secure the frail ringbearer to the man's chest. Qurag, reflexively reached down the 8 feet between he and the King while seeking to reassure them. Unable to reach the hand of the King, Qurag ran back to where Durzak now stood with the struggling figure of Mendal tied to the tether tree. He removed a length of rope from the saddle of Anborn's horse and jogged back to the scene of the crime.

Within moments Qurag had lowered the rope and watched as with the growing light of the day, the King and the dusty sun haired little one had affixed the limp body of Frodo within the grey cloak of Lothlorian and secured it to the chest of the reborn Ranger. Durzak and Qurag together pulled with all their might and helped the King clamber up the last few feet of rocky embankment. Qurag helped the panting King untie Frodo from his nestled cocoon within the protective cloak as Durzak pulled an anxious Sam upwards from the rocky ledge.

Aragorn fumbled with the last of the knots and motioned to the Orc to lay out whatever covering might be had to soften the austerity of the grounds hard welcome. The King scarce dared to look at what he was uncovering and found his hands shaking from the weight of his uncertainty, the slight body in his arms had seemed so still and his last view of the Hobbit had been of a shirt drenched in blood, he grimaced in distaste as the cloak at last was undone and he once more viewed the damage done this diminutive hero of Middle Earth. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of unwashed body, the sharp acrid odor of vomit and the sickly pungent aroma of infected flesh met his senses and he leaned forward to tenderly run his hand through the hopeless tangle of sweat and filth encrusted curls "oh Frodo, what have they done?" he whispered. A moan of soul wrenching despair met his words and he glanced over his shoulder to see Sam fall to his knees beside him and reach a questioning hand to the blood fouled breast of his friend.

"Strider...by the Valar, he still lives, after all they done ta him he still lives" Sam said with pain and wonder intermingled. The sad tenor of the Hobbit's words forced Aragorn from the inertia the viewing of his friend had caused and he took charge once more "Qurag, find water and heat it, Sam....bring my herb pouch...it is there "he gestured with his hand towards the bag Sam had dropped as he'd climbed the embankment "Durzak, find any article of clothing these men may have held in their packs and rip them for bandages and rags." As one they leapt to their tasks and soon had the supplies needed to further assess the damages done their friend. Aragorn's eyes were wells of sadness and pity as he began to remove the shirt and filthy rags which were all that remained of Frodo's boy like clothing.

Sam fought to suppress his gasps and sharp intakes of breath as the history of Frodo's torment was revealed to him one bruise, one whip weal, one gash, one broken rib or lacerated piece of flesh at a time. The stalwart Hobbit servant soon found his hand mechanically aiding in the disrobing and washing of the slight body before him, the actions of his hands divorced from the impact such atrocities held upon his mind and heart. Bruises that would not wash away, raw and crusted lines of agony left from hours spent hanging by rough rope, the awkward angle of rib bones fractured from the blow of stick and boulder, the weeping mass of raised reddened flesh, reminders of switches and whips, the oozing and pus laden cuts, the intimate abrasions and chafed skin which spoke of hours of degrading abuse, the heat of swollen skin stretched too tight over flesh and bone discolored with red, black and purple tentacles running up his leg, each hurt revealed, each illness displayed anew served only to harden the heart of the formally gentle hobbit gardener from the Shire.

As Sam sat back and watched the King struggle to bathe and bandage the weakened and frail bundle of hurts that had once been his proud master, he felt his anger grow inside of him. Aragorn found himself uttering soothing sounds as his ministrations caused the limp hobbit in his care to moan or toss his head in protest of his handling. The King frowned in anger as he viewed and treated each hurt with bandages, rinses and soothing creams of elvish make as he came at last to the travesty of fairness that was the most dangerously damaged portion of the ringbearer's body. A shift in the winds, a brief, yet, sudden change in the morning breeze brought the stench of rotting flesh to the forefront his examination.

Hands shaking with trepidation and nose wrinkled in distaste, Aragorn removed the final layer of dirt and pus encrusted bandages from about the hobbits foot and shook his head in wordless dismay. The foot was swollen to near twice it's normal size, angry red and dark purple lines snaking their way up the slender calf. Aragorn rocked back on his heels and motioned for Sam to bring from the fire the first of several warmed and moistened rags. Sam, looking pale and shaken, his eyes narrowed in an expression of bewildered despair, brought the cloths and together they carefully cleansed and tended the ringbearer's wounded foot. The King had firmly pressed upon the swollen and heated skin, as Sam had carefully held down the wounded foot, Aragorn was massaging and working the infected blood back down as best he could to the site of the original wound, forcing the thickened and heavily clotted blood and putrefying infected pus to ooze from portions of skin weakened from rot.

A loud moan brought them back to the reality of their task, Aragorn started, shocked from the mechanical care he'd been dispensing to find himself looking into the glassy heavy lidded stare of Frodo. The now shaking hobbit thrust his head back in agony, the sinuous muscles of his neck standing out taut from the strain of his attempt to move away from such painful ministrations "no more" he groaned piteously as his trembling became violent shaking "death flower...give it...give it to me" he begged "need it..do any...anything...please" he pleaded weakly. The hobbit's shaking increased and Sam looked pleadingly to Aragorn as the tears started to flow down the pale and bruised face of the writhing hobbit before them."Shh Mr. Frodo...Strider's got ye...he'll bring ye aid...won't ya Strider"? Sam asked, his voice high pitched with strain. Frodo continued to moan and try to pull away from them "do anything...want it..take me, you shall have any of me you wish" the frantic hobbit was panting in his delusional state "take me please" he grabbed in his panic to Aragorns tunic, reaching desperate hands to pull the Kings face down to his own. Aragorn tried to placate the frantic actions of his friend "shh Frodo, we have medicines to assist you my friend" he said but as his head came down closer to the fading voice of the frantic hobbit beside him he cast a worried glance to Sam. Frodo continued to pull weakly upon the King's tunic, hands entwining themself in the travel worn clothing as he pulled the bearded face of his friend closer the hobbit opened eyes wide, blue and filled with visions of far off places his eyes looked to Aragorn with no recognition. "Do what you will to me... anything...please" he pleaded one last time as he attempted to kiss the lips of his Ranger savior, falling back in weakness and pain as Aragorn gently pushed him away.

Sam, with an agonizing groan of shame and heart wrenching disgust stomped over to the saddlebags of the Anborns horse and with a cry angrily began to throw upon the ground it's contents, coming at last to the sickly sweet smelling leather pouch that would bring his master relief. Frodo lay moaning and pleading, snatches of words and entreaties falling from lips bruised and chapped from his weeks of torment "take me...do what...what you wish...no more pain...need it...oh need it now" he cried. Aragorn looked up to see Sam standing beside him, leather pouch thrust insistently toward him. Lips drawn and eyes flashing his disapproval, Aragorn opened the pouch and took a pinch of the sweet and sticky paste in his two fingers he carefully elevated Frodo's head, he gently pushed it in as a mother bird offering sustenance to it's young. The moaning and twitching hobbit slowly ceased his struggles, a wave of quiet peace erasing lines of pain and worry from his face one by one until they found themselves looking upon a face so beautiful in it's quiet acceptance of it's fate that it looked as though a death mask had descended to blanket the small soul in it's long sleep.

They, Aragorn, Sam and Qurag sat back and looked with horrified disbelief upon the limp body before them. Sam, rubbing tears from his eyes once more, was the first to speak, his words sought to mask the horror they'd witnessed, to hide from spoken word the specter of their brave and strong willed friend brought so low with the cover of mundane matters and the comfort of care they could provide. "I reckon 'he'll be needin' some clothes Strider, he t'aint got much more than rags left upon him." he said sadly as he gently stroked the fairness of the sleeping face beside him and he looked with a love pure of heart and strong with reason upon the hero of his childhood. Aragorn looked up slowly, grey eyes, misted with the tears he'd not yet the strength to give in to, locking with the variable green hue of Sams vision. "Have you clothes in your pack that might fit him for a short while Sam?' he asked quietly," I fear that none of these" he said gesturing to the pile of Men's shirts and breeks "would render any valuable service." he finished quietly, feeling sudden shame for his affiliation to the world of men. "Aye" Sam murmured as he slowly stood and walked to his pack, slowly shuffled steps and bent shoulder painting the truer picture of the young servant's broken heart.


	39. Chapter 39:Pursuing

Chapter 39

Faces of War: Pursuing

Disclaimer: The characters contained within this story, or at least most of them, are the property of J.R.R Tolkien....a master at his craft.

Renee....Glad this story cheered your day during the last chapter....our ailing hero is near to despair...it will be the love of the many and the few who bring him back!

Iorhael....yeah....Frodo's body is saved....but what of his mind? If I could write the "mental" angst of the ringbearer half as well as you, I'd feel this a story to be proud of! If you've any words of wisdom about my dabbling in "angst fiction" I'd love to hear how to make the story better!

Lovethosehobbits....here it is...the next chapter....a bit of a "twining" of the story threads occurs here....bringing together some "loose ends".

TTTurtle...I'm glad my redistribution of spacing helps you to read...I have to keep reminding myself to check the text for "ease of consumption"....please "get on me" if I slip into my old extended paragraphs! I'm thrilled that you like the story...It's really become a part of me....envisioning settings and characters....I hop you continue to read and that you enjoy it!

The quiet of the early morning held still the sleeping figures upon the ground, scattered about in heaps of two and three, arms and legs greedily clutching the little warmth given them by thin blankets and the presence of one another. Galen walked his sentry path about the perimeter of the camp, feet mechanically moving to keep pace with the steady train of thoughts that occupied his mind. ' Three days' he thought ' 'tis but three days since we left the caves...' he sighed wondering again if they'd done the right thing. His mind was overcome with the random images of a little blond girl and her dark haired protector, he felt a lump rise in his throat and he found himself praying to whatever god would listen, that the Hobbits were right, that there was no way they'd left behind in the rubble of the cave the light of the princess and the fading spirit of her prince. He sighed deeply and shaking his head to distract himself looked to the newly arisen sun and it's soft blanket of rose and gold as it crept over the barren landscape all about them. He made his way over to the circle of stones that held the camps fire and squatted down to talk to another who found peace in the newness of the day.

Gimli stared pensively into the dying embers of the fire, wondering idly if he should rekindle it to provide a means to cook for their company, but was distanced from these mundane thoughts by the presence of the former guard. "Ha, Galen....'twill be time to head out soon....do ya suppose we should kindle the fire ta help the hobbits with the breakfast?" Galen shook his head, his lips pressed firmly to a line of worry "no time Master Gimli....we shall reach the river today...." he looked towards the children clustered about him "they're strong Sir, and they'll be stronger yet when we reach their Ada....hot food or no, we've got to head out" he said , his voice soft spoken and sincere. The stocky dwarf contemplated the tall mans words but a moment "Aye, 'tis right ye are then....'tis away we must be" he groaned just a bit as he rose stiffly to his feet "let me go wake that rascal Pippin....he'll know how ta rouse and move the youngins."

Within the hour Pippin had, shaking the sleep from his own eyes, roused first his cousin and then the rest of the camp with a round of gentle nudges, whispered entreaties and softly spoken promises. As Merry tied down the last of the provisions to their lead cart he flashed a knowing look to his cousin, a look that spoke the troubles of his heart, today would be the day, they both felt it. With a hearty "eeh yah" and a flick of the reins Gimli urged the draft ponies from their complacent stance and their day began once more. The two carts, and their assorted foot weary companions headed west, seeking to allay their fears and find their comfort as they sought the waters of the Anduin.

The breathy and melodious tune before him brought Faramir from his revere, he tightened his grip about the tiny child set before him on the saddle, it had been just a few days since she'd risen from her sick bed and he marveled at how resilient she was. "What 'tis the song you seek to bring forth little one?" the Stewards son asked, his lips twitching in a barely repressed smile. The blond curls nestled in his chest tilted back so that for a moment he caught the shine of her dark blue eyes " 'tis a song of the elves, one that Sir Frodo used ta sing when we were in need of comfort" she said wistfully "he could sing it ever so much better, he knew all the words and I can remember but a few." Her voice echoed with saddened resignation, as if she expected never to be given the chance to hear such words again. "Well, you must keep trying mistress Rosetta, do not give up and perhaps you will find more words within you." the ranger said with quiet knowing. Faramir felt her squirm a bit and re settle herself to a position of shifted comfort, she rocked her head back and forth but a moment "Sir Frodo has all my words Faramir, his song feels too quiet to me now" she sighed the sigh of diminishing hope that Faramir knew only too well and continued, her sad poignant words a gently abrasive reminder of his task "I have no words within me without the song of my Sir Frodo." He bent his head down over her curls, eyes never straying from the horizon, as he pointed towards the west "then we shall find his song little one, we will find the words you need very soon....but you must be brave, for the Sir Frodo you hold so dear may need your help if he is to remember how to sing. Can you be brave ?" he asked, knowing his words would bring her disquiet he squeezed her carefully to remind her of his protection.

Rosetta thought but a moment and replied in words clear and knowing "I can show him all the good inside, just as he showed me, I will help him find his quiet places Faramir" her voice grew softer as she added "I need his words or the songs I sing will not be enough." Faramir found himself wondering 'enough for what?', yet wanting to bring her comfort shifted his hand from it's position about her waist to reach up and stroke her small cheek "your song is filled with it's own special beauty" he whispered, wanting to reassure her, to give her hope that all would be well. The tiny child was silent a moment and she reached up to grasp the rough hand caressing her cheek, petite fingers entwining themself amongst his great calloused ones "we children need his song Lord Faramir, _we_ need our Ada Frodo to keep us safe and strong....what do you and the King need him for?" she asked innocently, her wide dark blue eyes fixed upwards towards him.

Faramir shook his head, there was no easy answer to this...was Frodo '_needed_' by the King? Was the life of the ringbearer tied to the lives of men? He moved his hand from her soft cheek to once more grasp her protectively about the waist, " his deeds will live forever, and his heart shall help heal a nation filled with hate and distrust....I can not speak for the Kind young one, but for my part I can say that the world of men would be a place of less sincerity were it not for your Ada Frodo." He paused a moment and thought of the Ringbearer, thought of his capture at Ithilian, the questioning in the caves of Henneth Annun, the hard and cruel march to Osgiliath....through it all Frodo had maintained a gentle righteousness, a quiet dignity and soothing strength that he knew was only bestowed upon those whose life was a reflection of their own unwavering faith and pure intentions. They rode in silence a while and Faramir noted a gradually growing heaviness in the quiet body before him, he shifted her to allow her greater comfort as they lumbered across the seemingly endless expanse of dusty harsh terrain and smiled as he heard the snuffled pattern of breathing which indicated sleep had claimed his passenger."Rest well my child" he whispered to her blond curls " by the will of the Valar we shall soon have our strength returned to us."

Frodo lay in darkness, his world reduced to the small quiet corners of his mind. He was only remotely aware of his physical body, could see as if from a distance when pain assailed him, when arms sought to bring comfort or when nourishment was offered to bring sustenance. He watched as his body cried out in discomfort, as his limbs struggled to escape arms he expected would only bring hurt, or his mouth refused food as he sought for his one item of comfort. He had only the drive and will to attend to the soothing stillness and nourishment his mind so desperately craved, his one focus, his one reason to hang to his slender thread of life was the paste of the flower that held him within it's insidious grasp. He wandered in his mind, anxiously waiting to emerge from his shadowy world of peace and numbness to partake of the life sustaining elixir which brought him to the darkest and most quiet corners of his fading memories. His body was a vessel of pain, his weakened resolve, failing strength of purpose and his ever present guilt were all that bound him to the fraying thread of his life. He could not face his choices, could not reconcile his memories nor bear to recall the images of the degradation he'd been forced to. He folded tighter within himself, channeling his heart, his soul and his hope to the quietest corners of himself. Murmurs in his mind sought to bring him forth, whispers of compassion, promises of healing and the lilting song of his long ago love wove through his doubts and shadowy memories. The shame he'd been forced to endure, the pain of his failures, the guilt of the losses he'd borne loomed about him and he retreated in despair from those who loved him. With no sight of a future and no one to live for, he closed his mind and pushed away the distant voices who sought to aid him.

With a muffled curse and the shuffle of stumbling feet, Mendal was dragged to the side of his mount. The angry ruffian spat at his Orc handler and glared defiantly as his hands, which had been bound before him were further tethered to the line which lead behind the saddle. Durzak, paying the angry man no heed, proceeded to ensure that all his knots were securely tied, then stepped forward to hold fast to the bridle of beast beside him. Aragorn eyed the saddle doubtfully, he was worried that the trek down the hill upon the horse's back would prove too much for Frodo in his weakened state, that the horse would not easily bear the burden of it's two riders and he turned to tell Qurag of his fears. The Orc, as if reading the Kings mind, looked down to where Sam was carefully wiping his master's face with a dampened towel "horse not good, ride rough...." he stated cryptically as he tilted his head towards the figure of the King. Sam paused in his ceaseless care taking and wordlessly spoke his question in the sepia infused hazel of his eyes to the King . Aragorn nodded and picking up his pack upon one shoulder, began to bend down to take the fragile form of the ringbearer in his arms, he would carry the fading spirit he'd grown so to admire.

A harsh snicker and derisive snort came from behind him and he tilted his head to see over his shoulder, pausing in his task, his gaze landing upon Mendal, the source of the mocking laughter. "Worried fer yer half high eh my King?" the man said with a snort "worry not, his mind tis broke, his body too with what we done ta 'im. " he laughed. Aragorn, forgetting his intentions towards Frodo moved angrily towards the prisoner, stopped by the agile yet brawny might of Qurag, the King reached to grab the ruffian before him, he found his arms suddenly entangled by those of the Orc as he seethed just feet from where the man stood laughing.

"He feels nothing my King....'Fingirn' 'tis a naught but a bunk warmer he is....he'll feel only what the death flower lets 'em" he laughed. Qurag, sensing the fury of the man in his grip, lifted his arms to press Aragorn back from his posture of hatred, grey eyes flashing his contempt the King sought to steady his anger, ragged breaths emanating from his flared nostrils. Mendal shook his head slowly side to side as he smirked " he 'tis a corsair now, marked and branded by Keldor himself....I seen his 'attachment' to yer Ringbearer...ye'll not rest whilst yer trying ta make off with one 'o Keldors bunk boys." The scraggily and unkempt ruffian looked towards the prone body of the ringbearer, he lifted one eyebrow and licked his lips "aye, and havin' tasted his charms....a body can't blame the Corsairs fer fightin' fer their bounty....he 'tis a pleasure Keldor's men twould die fer.".

A sudden cry of rage broke the tenseness of the moment as Sam rose to his feet beside the frail quiet of his master, hands clenched in rage and eyes burning with smoldering hatred he stepped towards the man whose words caused such stabbing pain. "No" the angry Hobbit growled "no I tell you, ye'll say no more of my master...ye'll speak no more of Frodo son of Drogo, ye'll utter no words about this '_Fingirn_'....his name is FRODO" he said scathingly "there 'tis no Fingirn here....his star will never fall, his spirit never falter...no matter the pain ye give 'im". Qurag found himself holding now not just to the king but also to the fury of the sandy haired Hobbit who tended to his spirit brother, the tale teller. The Orc held the anger of the two within his grasp and with a mighty effort managed to still them as they struggled to advance in their fury, to do harm to the man tied behind the horse.

Mendal, who'd sized up his adversaries quickly, laughed as he saw he was in no danger "in that yer mistaken my little one' he said with oily intent "his light has gone out...his star speaks only of death and darkness now my little one...soon ye'll see that as Keldor comes back to claim what is his....fool yerself all yer wantin' " Mendal said as he looked over the three faces before him "yer friend 'tis the slave of the corsairs now...he bears their mark and wears their ring within his ear...Keldor has joined yer halfhigh ta his ranks....and they never forget those in their ranks." the defiant ruffian spat as Durzak, who'd seen the stress upon his own master's face, grasped the bridle of the horse and began to lead Mendal from the summit of the hill.

The muscled arms of Qurag began to tremble with the strain of his peacemaking, he snorted in relief as Durzak, with no order from the king or request from him had begun to lead Mendal down the steep and narrow path to the river. Aragorn, his fists clenched in tight balls of fury, allowed his erratic breathing to retain it's normal rhythm. With a last full breath of air he hung his head in shame and allowed Qurag to gradually loosed his hold upon him. He turned to offer Sam what comfort he could, to try and make amends for the poison they'd heard from the foul words of Mendal. Turning to take Sam into his grasp Aragorn was startled to see Sam's earth toned eyes riveted upon him, the brown and gold of Sam's eyes ablaze with undisguised rage.

"Sam...." he said softly as he reached to clasp his friends shoulder "Sam, his words are an evil we shall endure no more" he pleaded for understanding as he handed a scrap of cloth to Durzak to bind within the mouth of the ruffian. Qurag added a few grunts in their language and soon Durzak had Mendal tethered _and _gagged.

Aragorn waited for Sam's approval, his eyes seeking understanding and fellowship. Sam, whose formally warm toned eyes glinted with a metallic hardness and hatred turned from his King and approached Qurag. "The world 'o men does not deserve 'em Qurag, I'll see 'em hurt no more...." and so saying the steady hobbit brushed past Aragorn and gestured with pleading eyes for Qurag to take up his most precious bundle. Qurag looked but once to the sad countenance of the King and seeing no argument there, he bent and gently nestled Frodo's limp and battered body in his arms. Sam, unable to meet the gaze of his friend and King extended his arm to indicate the path that they would all follow.


	40. chapter 40: reflecting

Faces of War

Chapter 40: Reflecting

Disclaimer....These characters and places are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien....a master craftsman with the written word!

TTTurtle: Thanks so much for your kind words....This chapter is a little longer and I used it to re-introduce some of the characters we haven't seen in a few chapters. Yes, Frodo is being seen as "the slave that got away" by the Corsairs....and they will not accept that too easily! Frodo needs his friends more than ever now...but not as much as will worded huh? Thanks! Let me know if there is too much word/phrase repetition....I am working on varying my vocabulary! Frodo has not been healed by the drug....his septic blood poisoning has just not been as painful because of his "clouded" mind! I'm glad it's still thrilling....in order for me to get the characters back to Minas Tirith....I'll need another 10 chapters I should think....so hang in there!

CLotr: I am sorry that once again this chapter took longer than I'd expected....it hard writing to get the characters back together! Sam is ever so ready to find fault with Aragorn now...you shall have to keep reading to see how Aragorn regains his trust!

Endymion2: Yes, I am re-gathering the forces....it's been a tough couple of chapters to write...keeping the logistics straight and plausible....I can see why it took Tolkien so long to write his story....but bless him for keeping with it! You'll see Aragorn , now that he's gotten Frodo down from the mountain, start to tend to the needs of his patient!

Althea.....Thank you so very much for reading....I hope you continue to enjoy my ramblings! Frodo is a wreck right now....but at least he is unaware of his agony...poor Sam has to watch his master suffer! Sam is struggling with the whole "trust" issue right now....but you are right, Frodo needs the love and care of many right now!

A cooling breeze gently caressed the the slender and stoic features of the the fair haired hobbit, it's touch a whisper of relief from the heat beckoning to them from the distant river. Pippin shifted a bit in his seat, twisting about to watch the sad and serious faces scattered upon the gathering of children perched about the cargo in their wagon. He found himself wondering if the hollow eyed faces before him even remembered how to smile for they'd lived immersed so completely in the hatred of war. His wandering visage fixed upon the lad Kylos, their eyes locked a moment and he found himself drawn into the depth of the steady boys gaze. He saw in the smokey and distant sparkle of his eyes a hardened and stubborn young lad whose demeanor spoke only of dogged perseverance and righteous certainty. ' So determined ye are lad....so certain that there 'tis no other path', he found himself thinking as he spun back to look to his cousin and companion wishing that he too could hold to such a vision. Without meaning to, he sighed aloud and felt Merry's eyes boring into him.

"Bear up Pip, we shall be to the river in a matter of hours.' he said, his voice sounding gravelly and unsteady from their many hours of quiet travel. "Aye, I know we shall be there soon Mer, it is, well it's just the not knowing that is so hard, the past days, well, we've had a task ta tend to, we've had the trading, the spying, the digging....well, now it 'tis just the travelin' towards somethin' that might not be there....well, 'tis got me all caught up inside I guess. I don't like worrying so much for Frodo, yet of late it seems all we _can_ do." he said quietly, staring intently at the side of his cousins face. Merry bit his lips and fixed his brows in a sternly fixed frown, eyes not leaving the rocky path before him, his face folding in upon itself in his worry "Frodo 'tis strong Pip, in all the years I've known 'em, I never knew him ta give up on what was right fer others, even if he went without himself in order ta make certain their success." Pippin nodded, he knew well the fight Frodo had in him when justice was not equally available to all "yes Mer,the thought of that 'tis fine, _if_ Frodo is with the lass as we knew him ta be days ago, if he 'tis seeing that the fight is not yet over...but what if he is alone Mer, what if he sees that his part in this..this world we fought for....what if he thinks his part is done?" Pippins voice had gradually increased in volume and Merry heard some shuffling behind him and he turned to rapidly "shush" his favorite cousin. "Not so loud" he hissed as he tilted his head back and quickly quirked his neck towards the back of the cart "'tis hard enough they've had it Pip....I'll not bring 'em more worry...so keep yer voice down or yer worries to yerself" he hissed. Pippin nodded once slowly and sadly and turned to look to the other side of the wagon, searching for some sign of hope within himself to latch on to and to make his peace with.

The miles rolled away beneath them, and Pippins unease remained sharply focused, he could not shake the fear that was descending upon him and he looked to the reaching of their destination with dread. He didn't know if it was his Tookish 'sight' or the days of ceaseless worry creeping from his heart to his mind, but he knew that his beloved elder cousin was fighting, fighting not for others, but for his very reason to exist. He glanced sideways to Merry, who was clearly from the frown upon his face, keeping company with his own worries. 'Ah Merry' he thought 'ye live in the world of the practical and the pragmatic my steady cousin, ye'll have no comfort for my fanciful visions" and so knowing, Pippin opted to keep his fears to himself.

Kylos too watched the miles roll past, his thoughts focused only on the hope of finding his sister alive. He looked about the wagon, his eyes taking in the rag tag group of companions who were the closest thing to family he'd had in a long time, and he frowned as the flash of a new worry flickered within him. 'Will I lose them too?' he thought 'will there be a place for us to remain together when we return to the Minas Tirith?'. Looking at the children in his wagon and then behind him to the second wagon, he knew the answer to be 'no', there would be no family ready to take them all, no home large enough or well off enough to provide for all. Once more he would find those he cared for taken from him, would be powerless to change the future and would feel the full weight of his adult sized responsibilities. He felt yet another twinge of pain in his heart and he quickly hardened himself, slammed shut the door of his emotions and unable to bear the thought of one more hurt he sat up a bit taller and resolved to think only of_ his_ family 'I must look first to the care of Rosetta and Rumeil' he thought 'it 'tis what Papa asked of me'. He fought the urge to think of his past life, to think of the days when he bore only the weight of his burgeoning teen years, to think of a time when he was free to only grow as a child, not to live in the worrisome days of adulthood, where every moment layered loss upon fear in a seemingly endless spiral of uncertainty. Kylos, knowing his thoughts of past days to be a fruitless pursuit, slammed shut yet another door on his past and locked away the memory of his younger, less care worn days forever as he looked only to the possibilities and practicalities of his future.

The weary healer brushed back the dark curls of his patient, his movements soothing and efficient as he checked the vital signs of the young boy. The lad had not yet awoken, in his three days since his recovery from the ruffians he'd only slept, lost in dreams of fear and distrust which caused him to fever and tremble at the touch of any upon him. Terran shook his head in dismay, he felt that if the lad did not stir soon, that he'd never have the strength to awaken again. He looked to the fair skin and dark silky curls spread about the pale faced boy beside him and wondered what horrors lurked in his memory, what pain had he endured as he'd spent his days dangled as bait before the King and his company. Terran lifted the slender wrist of the young one to take his pulse and he carefully caressed the tiny hand within his own, mindful of the still healing abrasions on his wrists, he watched the face for any sign of awakening or movement. The cart, covered against the heat of the day, cast a pattern of shade and gently moving patterns upon them in the shadows of the canvas.

Terran turned to seek another infusion of feverfew and willow bark to help reduce the heat that burned within his patient and he carefully lifted the lad's head to bring a warmed infusion to his lips. The boy moaned at the movement, but obediently opened his lips and with some murmured words of encouragement, swallowed several gulps of the offering before him. Terran encouraged him with gentle words 'there ye go lad, nice and easy my boy, yes....yes swallow slowly now for this will aid ye.' As Terran twisted from the lad to refill his now empty cup, he felt his hand suddenly grabbed and turning sharply he found himself looking into the wide and haunting brown eyes of his quiet patient.

The young lad stared with eyes wide with horror and distrust. Terren moved his head slowly from side to side, denying the evil assumptions in the lads haunting gaze. "Rest easy my boy, 'tis safe you are now....you travel with the King's guard lad," Terren paused to look more deeply to the lads eyes, to gauge the receptiveness of his advances. Finding no softening in his patient's grip, the elderly healer continued "yer safe, the men that took ye from the caves are gone now...the King himself rescued you from their clutches." Terren waited anxiously for a glimmer of hope in the boy's eyes, a whisper of acceptance from his lips, but none came. Time hung heavily between them. The frightened boy cast his eyes about the shaded confines of their wagon, his fear filled glances taking in and appraising all he saw before him. Terren was glad of the boys caution, his careful steps forward from the pain of his captivity spoke of a strong will and of self control taken seriously.

Garth glanced around him, the abundance of supplies about him spoke to the truth of the old mans words, but he'd been fooled before and would not allow himself to make such a mistake again. He stared with eyes squinted against the sudden infusion of light into their shaded haven as he came to realize the steady movement of the cart had slowed and the flap covering the back of the wagon had been, with a rustling of leathers, flung aside. The old man broke eye contact with him as another voice, body yet unseen, joined the quiet of their space. "Lord Faramir says I am to rest a while with you and the boy Terran, I fell to sleep upon his horse" a breathy high pitched voice proclaimed with a giggle. Garth was frozen by the tone of the childish prattle, he felt a stabbing pain and the blackness of remembrance wash over him as he saw through the mist of eyes closed against his sorrow, the figure of another small lass running to greet him through the meadow. He felt a sob catch in his throat and the warmth of his own tears upon his cheek. He clenched his eyes shut even harder, willing himself away from his pain and a small hand was there upon him, wiping away his sadness, a small warm hand whose feather light touch sent images of Kindra, his beloved baby sister Kindra, running through his mind. He savored the touch, relishing the thought that all perhaps had been a dream and that he would truly wake to find the dark haired mischievous sister of his heart there beside him.

Dark blue eyes, innocently searching his face gave no quarter as he found himself looking hopefully to her, and realizing the folly of his hope, he shyly averted his gaze as she continued to stare. "Don't be sad' the blond curls with the dark sapphire eyes said softly "we will be your family...you'll see, we will all be together again soon" she said with quiet certainty. Terran reached a hand to ruffle the little lasses curls "Aye, now young lass it's a sleep yer both a needin' or I'm no healer....move over then lad and let my Rosetta in to lay her head down fer a spell." Garth, feeling rather awkward, moved his aching body aside a measure to allow the little wonder before him room upon the cot. His deep brown eyes were wide with suspicion and unease, but he moved aside none the less. Rosetta snuggled in to his side and turned a fair cheek upon the pillow to better face her companion. "What 'tis yer name? I am called Rosetta and this" she said gesturing to the grey haired one seated beside her 'is Terran"....we travel with the Lord Faramir to find the King and Ada Frodo, my Ada Frodo has been taken by the bad men. He 'tis a hero to all in Gondor and the King counts him among his friends" She paused a moment to catch her breath and to allow herself to stare to the face of the child beside her. Getting no response, other than a bewildered quirk of the boys head, she continued in her childish disclosure " you were made ta seem as our Ada Frodo and the King set watch upon ya as you were tied upon the tress....he didn't take his eyes from ya, he was that certain ye'd be the answer to all out hopes".

The healer noted the wince of remembered pain upon the lads face and laid his hand upon Rosetta's shoulder to gain her attention "Now lassie, it's sleep the Lord Faramir sent you here for, not to talk our new friend here to distraction....shut yer eyes young one, we'll be to the river in but a few hours." Garth blanched at the thought that they'd soon be back within reach of the men who'd hurt him before. He trembled a bit in his memory and fear. Rosetta, shrugging off Terran's warning, watched the look of pain cross the lads face and she hastened to reassure him "now ye mustn't be afeared, Lord Faramir will keep us safe....it 'tis his mission to make this land safe for the future citizens of Gondor....he's to be the new Steward now that the Lord Denethor is gone from us....". Garth listened to her childlike words with a certain amount of distrust and amazement, she spoke of the world of the royals as if she knew them all herself, even talking of a King, which he knew Gondor did not have. He did not trust himself yet to speak and he looked to the old man beside them in pity, did_ he_ not realize that this young one, whom he so clearly adored, was not quite right in her mind and in her words? He stared wide eyed and watched the lasses lips move as only some of her words registered through his muddled thoughts "...the King 'tis a hero....." "....Ada Frodo 'tis known to the elves, he has kin in Rivendell and speaks in the words of the fair folks..." "The bad men are in league with them you know..." Garth, his interest piqued, shook off his confusion and listened more attentively now. Terran, seeing the calming affect Rosetta's steady stream of conversation was having upon the lad, ceased his urging for quiet and allowed her endless words to flow forth.

Garth thought of the 'bad men' whom the little lass was speaking off and he listened more closely..."I was awake when the Lord Faramir thought me sleeping and I heard him say to his Captain that the Corsairs were havin' a part in all this, them, their dark frightful ships and murderin' ways...." Garth watched as Rosetta shook her head "they are of the sea and the waterways, they'd want no part of us here....We are of the horse folks, we have naught but farms and horses about, what ships would we have for them?" The little girl laughed a little at the idea of her King sailing a ship in a land of horses. Rosetta's laughter slowly died as she saw the color drain from the skinny and darkly silent lad lying beside her, Terran saw the change in his demeanor as well and leaned forward to wipe a hand across his suddenly sweating brow.

Garth felt his world shrink to the flashing images of the past months and he trembled violently, his mouth working and whispers of 'no, no, not the water...no' his trembling voice broke with the hoarseness of his long silence. Images of swarthy bandy legged men laughing and making sport of the boys from the village came to mind, dying screams of lads he'd grown up with as they were tossed one by one into the depths of the lake with arms flailing and eyes wide in fear and horror, images of days spent forced to do their bidding with the lick of the whip the only reminder to guide him to his tasks. He knew the men the lass spoke of, he knew from his hours spent about their campsites as they'd pillaged village after village, the prize that was to be theirs for the taking, the reward promised them by men who masqueraded as solders of Gondor by day and who lied, raped and killed by night....he knew of the ships taken and the revenge sought. He knew of Dalmer and of his bond with Keldor, captain of the Corsairs. He lived once more the horrors of those months, never knowing when it was to be his day to die, working only to please those who controlled him, fueled by the hope that one day he'd meet up with some real soldiers of Gondor and find word of his father, long since taken by the enscription of the Steward's provisioning officers.

He felt a soft and gentle hand upon his cheek once more, was aware of the sensation of wetness upon his face and found himself focused within the depth of her gaze "you are safe now" she whispered, and at long last he found words, a face, a vision he could trust and he let lose his tears. Terran watched in amazement as the little lass brought comfort to one nigh on twice her age and he wondered at the change in her since the little dark haired hobbit princling had come into her life. He had precious little time to wonder as the young lad, trying to calm himself from his tears and the shaking of his fear began to choke and gag upon his coughing and distress. Terran reached to quickly bring a basin to the boys side and he carefully supported the boy's head as he vomited what little food they'd managed to get into him into the confines of the empty bin. As the noise of the gagging, the choking, the coughing ceased a sad silence descended upon the wagon space. Garth collapsed back into his pillow weakly and turning his dark curls towards the lass beside him he whispered " my name is Garth, my village was destroyed by the Corsairs and all my family killed by those seeking revenge and wanting the return of their lost ships....this 'tis no tale little one, " he whispered weakly to the canvas of the cart, not able to bear to look into the eyes of another he confessed " I live only because I could swim while my friends could not" and he began once more to cry.

Rosetta, with a deeply saddened look of appeal to Terran, turned to the dark curls beside her and wrapped her arms about his neck as she attempted to pull his resisting frame closer to her comfort "the bad men can not have you on the inside Garth....they can only touch what you let 'em have....do not let them hurt your heart as they hurt your body" she pleaded softly. Garth slowly rolled back to face the wisdom of the lass beside him, he sought to warn her and grabbing Rosetta's hand he croaked " they will never stop seeking what is theirs...do not let them take us, have your Lord Faramir turn back, let us go no closer to the world of these deeply evil pirates....they have no heart, don't you see?" the lad pleaded. Garth's dark brown eyes were shining with the fullness of his unshed tears as he looked to the depths of Rosetta's eyes, he begged "let us leave this horrid land....the Corsairs know only want and blood and pain.....they feed on the hurt of others...do not give them the joy of our agony ....I cannot bear to see any more killing." So saying the slight lad collapsed once more in tears, and with even with Terrans strongest sleeping draught, he would be soothed to sleep only with empty promises and the softly sung elvish lullaby that Rosetta was able to finally recreate.

The sunlight flickered on the distant ripples of the swiftly flowing river, the shimmering and dancing flashes of random brilliance mesmerizing and yet somehow disquieting in their intensity. A brief breath of cool air washed in off of the water and Sam shifted to avoid the noxious odor that washed over him with overwhelming suddenness. His senses were sharpened, all of them ever ready and attuned to the needs of his master and he grimaced in distaste as he recognized the pungent odor of septic flesh. He waved away the small collection of flies seeking to make their homes in the rotting wound upon Frodo's foot and looked worriedly to where Aragorn and Qurag stood in fervent debate 40 feet away beside the smoldering campfire. Every fiber of his being wanted to scream 'what are ya waitin' on?' so badly did he want the ease he felt his master deserved from the abyss of pain his infected foot had caused. Yet, he knew that once Strider started his cleansing of the rotted flesh, there'd be no turning back, whatever the cost. Sam had seen wounds go bad before, he'd lived no life of sheltered coziness as a lad, he'd seen his Mum work with the local healers on crushed bones and septic wounds, had watched as stoic farm lads lost limbs to infections, had seen the pitying stares of lasses as once able men had been brought down by their deformities. Sam had no illusions that life for a hobbit 'twould be the same when life and limb went their separate ways. What he had was hope, hope that the King and his healing magic would hold sway over the power of blood bourne infection, hope that his Mr. Frodo would show the stubborn Baggins streak for which he was so famous and fight against the poison in his blood, hope that determination would pull them through once more.

Sam looked to the pale and fair faced friend prone beside him, he laid his hand upon a fevered brow and grasped a trembling hand made weak by illness and the previous loss of a finger and he said a prayer to whatever of the Valar would see fit to help the creature who'd paid so dearly to do their biding, and he tried not to be bitter in his hope. He ran a work roughened hand through the grimy lank curls he knew so well " 'tis up to you Mr. Frodo" he whispered as he continued to look towards the distant debate "it all comes back to you sir" he said softly glancing at the white faced apparition beside him "ye've got a choice ta make, at least as Strider sees it sir....he's set ta give you yer choice sir....ta live with us, ta be a part of all that's here....ta see the world re made if you will sir.....to see the _good_ that come from all ye done". Sam took a deep breath and swallowed hard against the lump that was forming in his throat. "There's thems that'll love ya sir, those that'll be with ya no matter whats peeking back at us day by day, no matter what ya are to hobbits on the outside sir....there's them among us that know ye inside and out and who don't prefer neither...so long as we got you with us sir, so long as you give us a chance to save this world along with ye". Sam watched the slender, pale faced lad of his youth twitch in his drug induced sleep, a slight twist of his lips seeming as a smile, a view that was so the opposite of what Sam felt at that moment that he could no longer bear to look upon his friend and master.

Aragorn and Qurag, having debated the pros and cons of Frodo's surgery, stood in silence and stared back through the depth of the trees to see the slightly twitching body of the ringbearer. It was settled , Qurag had run out arguments, and so Aragon grimly proceeded with his directions, "we should go prepare them both Qurag, Frodo for the surgery and Sam for the...the possibility that we will not succeed." The King paused a moment, his gaze never waivering from the sight of the two hobbits he held in such high regard, he felt his resolve strengthen as he thought of the sacrifices these small folks had made for his kingdom, thought of all they had given up to protect the world of men, he would not allow this final blow to fall upon these two to whom he owed so much.

He turned his head and stared intently to the dark black of Qurag's eyes, "I will need to meditate upon the best course of action for a short time" he said softly. "I hope to find the thoughts of Gandalf and through him perhaps find out what is the will of the Valar, but he has been absent from my mind of late, a fact that I cannot deny, concerns me." The King shook his head to dismiss a sudden feeling of foreboding, then turning quickly strode to the horse and took down the leather haversack that carried his supplies ...."we will want athelas, and to use these marigolds with a poultice of woundwort to drain and cleanse the infection. " Aragorn looked deep to the eyes of Qurag "we shall have to ease him slowly from the use of the poppy, and while I fear the pain from this surgery may pull him from his drug induced slumber, I worry to much for the strength of his heart to mix with the poppy the sedative properties of the Valaerian root, so you must stand ready to restrain him if he should awaken." Aragorn clasped the swarthy Orc upon his muscled shoulder "go now friend, look for these herbs with Durzak and I shall go prepare myself, and Sam for what is to occur."

Qurag nooded wordlessly and with a last look to the hobbits he melted into the woods behind them, his brief high pitched whistle, one of many bird calls at his disposal,bringing the form of the second Orc to his side as they left the camp. Aragorn brought his hands to his temples, his rubbing of tiny circles upon them brought some ease to his growing headache. He wondered what remedy he would find for the pain in his heart, and as he walked towards the fair haired hobbit near the fire as he thought 'and where I shall find the hope to give to Samwise, who loves Frodo like no other, ' the King said sadly.


	41. chapter 41:penetrating

Faces of War

Chapter 41: Penetrating

Disclaimer....these painstakingly created creatures are not mine, alas....blessings to JRR and his estate for letting me "play" with his boys!

Moonlightshadow....mid terms, the bane of student life eh? Well, I, as a teacher can offer only marginal sympathy as I know how important school is! Thank you so very much for your kind words...it has been a challenge to bring the characters back together again after their extended absence from one another....I can empathize with JRR's writing dilemmas and can understand ...or at least begin to see how very difficult the task he set for himself was! I agree with you about the children, they draw me back time and time agin to this long and ever evolving story....but they are the reason for my very existence.....thank you for reading and please keep following...it is much more fun to write if I can wonder at the response my words might conjure up in the minds of those reading!

Lovethosehobbits....yikes, can't believe it's been a month since my last entry...the story is never far from my mind...it's just that :life" gets between me and the keyboard! I too am lost in the story, each time I sit to write I feel it "pull" me in...it is my "watcher in the water"....I fear that I too may need the might of Aragorn and Legolas to pull me out....I shall try to be more consistent in my entries....it is so very hard having a life outside of the lads....

Althea....yes, it is good to have the Shire 'flavor; of Merry and Pippin once more...they will be only a taste in this chapter but more is soon to come! I see Terran as a grandfatherly type, one who has been denied the time with his own grandchild, thus he loves others as his own...Rosetta is, well she is the light that draws Frodo back is she not? Poor Sam...he shall face pain in this chapter.....

BraellyLeatherleaf....thank you, thank you....keep on reading...it gets better!

Taking a last steadying breath, Aragorn with a small knife clasped securely in his hands, bent over the black and purple streaked, distended flesh of Frodo's foot and with a last bit of hesitation, brought the blade to the site of the heat infused and foul smelling wound. Sam looked anxiously to Frodo's thin and pale face, eyes attuned to any change in his level of awareness. Frodo lay like a dead thing, a wizened child in appearance, his too pale skin marked with bruises and sores stretched taut over his seemingly frail body. His frame would tremor on occasion, as if the gentle river breeze, so refreshing to others, was too much for his battered senses to comprehend. Qurag grunted his obvious displeasure as he tightened his hold upon the thin hobbit's shoulders and he waited for the latest tremor of pain or chill to take control of the slender form beneath him. The Orc looked anxiously to the drawn face of the tale teller, no movement could he see, the pale skin, stretched too taut over sunken cheeks was moist with the sheen of his fever induced sweat, but his body was still, too still. As the knife was about to make it's first cut into rotted flesh, the healing King froze in his actions and looked to the path behind him.

Sam, his mind finally readied for this newest hurt to his master took offence at this newest distraction and he gritted his teeth as he shook his head in frustration and snapped "what 'tis the wait for_ now_ Strider...his leg'll not last much longer...." Sam's next words were frozen in his

throat as he looked up to see Legolas and several more of his elven kin materialize through the dappled leaves of the nearby river birches. The elven lord lightly leapt from his mount and strode purposefully towards the figures gathered upon the ground. Aragorn, whose eyes had lit up upon the sight of his elven friend stayed his post, knife steady and hand firmly positioned against the putrefying flesh of Frodo's foot. With a slight twist of his head and a quirk of his brow Aragorn acknowledged the arrival Legolas "come at last to our aid?" he questioned with a sad and bitter smile. Legolas frowned, his quicksilver eyes taking in all the most visible damage and his heart reading the rest, when finally his eyes took in the extent of the damage to the ringbearer's foot. "I felt your need" he said quietly as he stood beside the King "I come to offer what help I am able to give, for I too have felt it Aragorn, I know that Gandalf is not to be found". Sam looked from noble flashing dark grey eyes to mercurial green eleven lights as he tried to ascertain the meaning of this elven message.

Strider sighed "I have lost the light of Gandalf, I find no guidance in my seeking of answers my friend....I only hope that the Istari's absence is as it is meant to be and not a message of what is to come" he said his voice barely registering above the sound of the flowing water behind him. Sam, unable to fully grasp the meaning behind the King's words, instead grasped Frodo's hand in a desperate grip of love not willing to let go it's prize. The shaken hobbit watched soundlessly as the King ordered the elves of Legolas's party to gather about them in a circle, his eyes barely blinked as he saw the elves about them grasp hands and Legolas kneel opposite the King and raise his hands above the ugliness of Frodo's butchered leg. Sam took a deep steadying breath and he held to Frodo's hand with both of his own as he bent his head to whisper in his master's ear "them that love ya are here for ya sir...we're all here ta pull you from yer pain, to be yer light sir as ye've been the light to so many...hold strong master, hold strong" the sturdy hobbit murmured to his master and his friend.

The gathered elves found their voices raised in a collective chant of healing and peace as their words sought to bring the dying hobbit to a place of quiet from his pain, a place of light and love that shone from the stars of Arda above. A melodious murmuring of voices entwined itself about those who sought to bring healing and stability to the desperately sick hobbit beneath them. Aragorn with a last steadying breath, grasped the darkened and distended flesh that was what remained of Frodo's foot and with a quick motion, deftly began to cut away the offending flesh.

Frodo felt a pull, an urge to surface from his world of stuporous acceptance , a force called to him, seeking to immerse him once more in the jagged inequities of pain without measure and he pulled back. The reward of being near to those he knew tended him was not a chip strong enough to barter, he sought shelter from the starkness of his pain and once more denied the voices who sought to bring him to the surface of his dwindling light. He heard, amidst the shattered promises of his memories, the voice of his beloved. He chose to forsake all other sounds save that of the Hobbit lass who'd brought him his sense of belonging, love and self assurance.

Through the cloying mists of his most foul dreams and images, the sharply defined light of this hobbit savior was bright indeed. Frodo found it hard to resist the pull of those lights. He heard the softly falling words of an old promise, the gentle gift of words renewed....

_I take thee Frodo Baggins, to be my voice of strength, my light of wisdom, my hope for the future....in this world or any other_.

He looked about the mist of his shrouded mind, seeking, searching for the one whose words had brought him such comfort....so long ago.

_I made that promise to you my love...and I will stand by it...will you?_

A calm and serene song filled Frodo's soul and he wanted with all his heart to answer...his mind readied to answer..._yes Chrys my love, yes_.

His body did not give his mind the chance for as he was to renew once more his promise a fiercely agonizing pain gripped him as he felt through his drug induced slumber and dream layered trance the lancing of his infected limb. His eyes, closed so long to the world of his body, flew open, not seeing the friends of his fellowship, only the onslaught of pain as his body tensed like a great spring ready to uncoil. Sam, seeing the anguish in his masters un-registering gaze tightened his grip on the slender hand encased within his own and began to make soothing noises from deep within his throat. Frodo's howl of pain and betrayal drowned out any comfort Sam may have offered as his tightly held body shook violently in it's attempt to distance itself from the instrument of this newest torture.

"Hold 'em" Sam yelled to Qurag as Frodo's body convulsed in it's rictus of torture. Sam reached for both of Frodos hands as Qurag did his best to hold the hobbit down by his shoulders. The melodious chantings of the elves increased in time to keep pace with the pulsating fear emanating from the watering blue eyes beneath them. Aragorn motioned to Legolas to use his hands as well as his mind's soothing invocations to still the flailing hobbit.

_Hold steady my love, there is only my voice....hold to my words and to my love Frodo Baggins_

Frodo fought the pain of his body, sought to still his quaking limbs and focus on the words of his beloved, with deep gasping sobs he willed his body to quiet once more and focused on the light in his mind.

_Chrys, it hurts, oh Eru how it hurts my love_ he moaned as his words left his battered mind and connected with the light before him.

Aragorn, clearly shaken by Frodo's response to the first cut motioned to Durzack to bring a flask readied with valerian root, infusion with a reduced dose of the poppy. The King's eyes spoke of the intended task and Sam, his own chest heaving in his agony for his master, loosened his grip upon one of Frodo's hands as he reached behind the slender neck to position him for the remedy. Frodo's eyes, dazed and clouded with pain cleared for one moment as Sam gently brought the flask to his cracked lips "help me Sam" he whispered brokenly and then with one last pain filled gasp, his eyes rolled back into his head. Sam stifled his own sob at those words so fraught with pain, but worked carefully to ensure that all the available dosage was gently placed within Frodo's mouth before he softly stroked the slender neck to be certain it was all swallowed. With a couple of deep breaths, Sam steadied himself and with utmost care softly laid Frodo's limp body down once more, with a shaking hand he stroked a stray dark curl from the pale fair face beneath him and he nodded that Aragorn should continue.

Frodo moved through his shadowed mind to the gently pulsating light before him. His pain veiled body allowed his imagination to roam free and in his dream he reached forward to entwine his hand in the velvet soft life of amber and gold before him. _Chrys_ he breathed as he pulled her to him. He bent his head to bury his nose in the fragrance of her, lavender and rosemary soothed him as he inhaled all his past loneliness. _I have missed you so my lass...it's been so long, so long_ he whispered as he pulled back to look into the shimmering green of her dancing eyes. _Frodo my love...we are so close now....hold steady love, hold fast to what we once had, for we shall be together again love....but you must have faith my love, have faith in our strength together_. She said, the melody of her voice a balm to his broken heart.

The chanting of the elves resumed it's gentle rhythm and Legolas relaxed his grip upon the hobbit's feet as Aragorn continued to palpate diseased flesh and to extrude the poisoned fluid from Frodo's foot. The fetid odor of decayed and rotted skin permeated the area and Sam nearly swooned from the wall of rank smells about him. Aragorn, his face white and lips held to a grim line, continued his grisly task. Cutting, squeezing, then cutting some more as the tune of the elves slowly changed to a quieter rhythm and all felt a soft peace descend upon them.

Legolas looked grimly to the now exposed bone beside him "you shall need to cut more" he said "the infection has set to bone". Aragorn nodded and sat back a moment on his heels as he took a cleansing cloth from it dish of athelas and Marigold, he carefully dabbed away the remaining pus tinged blood from the site of the wound. "I shall need a harder surface upon which to cut, Durzack, bring to me the shield from Brego's saddle" he said and within a minute he'd repositioned the freely bleeding foot upon a cloth covered shield.

Sam's head was spinning, the smell of Frodo's rotted flesh, the soothing rhythm of the elves invocations, the softly wafting aroma of the athelas all gathered about him in a cloying cloak of disembodied images. He shook his head as he numbly watched Strider swab the bloody foot and place it carefully upon the cloth covered firmness of the round shield. He watched in horror as the King brought fourth Andiril and was frozen in disbelief as the blade was cleansed with athelas and blessed by elven words. He felt Qurag's firm hands upon his shoulders as Aragorn raised himself up upon one knee and raised the blade above him, Legolas swiftly angled the bloody foot and he screamed in anguish as with one whistling swoop of the blade, Frodo's infected bone was severed from his body.

"Noooo" echoed over the water as birds that'd roosted in nearby trees and bushes rose up at the violence of Sam's cry. There was no time for further rage for as Sam gathered his senses about him once more he felt the tremor of Frodo's body as the tightly clenched hand in his sought to pull away. Sam looked from Frodo's foot to his face and watched in dismay as the wasted body beside him thrust this way and that, great convulsive tremors wracked the frail body and drool seeped forth from lips bit bloody in his agony. Sam threw himself atop his friend without thinking and fought to control his own shaking. Tears wet his cheeks as Sam scrambled to quiet his beloved master and friend. "Shhh Frodo, 'tis all right sir, 'twill soon be over.' he sobbed.

The elves stepped back as Legolas rose quickly to his feet and repositioned himself by Frodo's head. He knelt once more and firmly grasped on either side of the dark dank curls, his voice rising and falling in a terrible and powerful melody, then he knelt and touching his blond forehead to Frodo's dark damp curls whispered elven words of comfort over and over again. Sam watched in wonder as with each word his masters pain wracked body was taken to a place of quiet and release as the elven words drifted through the hobbit's mind and brought him comfort and calm. Aragorn nodded his thanks and with a few more swift cuts with the smaller blade, the debriding of dead flesh and bone was complete.

As Strider continued to cleanse and swab the wound, and herbs were brought to layer within the clean white dressing, Sam stood shakily to his feet. He felt his throat burn from the effort of holding back his pain, he stumbled to a nearby copse of trees and falling to knees, was violently sick for several moments. His head throbbed, his throat burned and his eyes watered in his pain as he remained knelt upon the ground, hands digging into his thighs to quell the trembling of his arms. A firm and calloused hand gently stroked his hair and he was dimly aware of the presence of another. He turned his head sideways, eyes full of tears just able to make out the deep red-brown scars and skin that made up the persona of Qurag. "Foot better now, tale teller have chance" Qurag grunted softly as he pulled a shaken Sam to his feet.

"Aye" Sam nodded "a chance is all he has isn't it?" he asked as he looked to where Strider was gently bathing the face and neck of the emaciated hobbit beside him "just a chance he has....after all he done fer us, after all his pain...this is what he has left to 'em" Sam was getting angry now. "The world of men don't deserve 'em Qurag....if, if I can get 'em past this....he'll never again call any man 'friend'.....not if Sam Gamgee has something ta say about it leastways" he muttered, his voice rank with hatred and distrust he pulled away from the helping hand of the orc and took his place once more by his masters side.

Three miles east of the river the weary band of Orphans rode through the desert heat in silence. The day grew old and all knew that soon they would be near to the river, and closer to finding the little one who had brought them comfort and calm in their darkest times. Blue eyes. Brown eyes, orbs of hazel and crinkled eyes of green and gold focused on Pippin as he continued his story. "And then yer Ada Frodo saw fit ta put a liberal amount of soap upon the bath house steps....nigh on each and every gentlehobbit ta use the bath house on that day found his comin' out a sight worse than his comin' in...ye've not truly seen funny 'til ye've seen the master of Buckland dancing about the steps with naught but a towel upon him" he added matter of factly and turned to looked his cousin square in the eye, green eyes dancing with the retelling of his favorite cousin's mischief. Merry was smirking, his full lips twisted in a sardonic grin as he nodded knowingly "aye, 'tis right ya are Pippin....and I'll venture that our Frodo did not sit comfortable in his seat for a near a week after the whupping that was gifted to him by my Da!"

The two hobbits looked to one another in companionable silence, it felt good to recall a time of smiling Frodo angst and ribald Frodo fun. Mid smile Pippin felt a chill run down his back and he found himself looking anxiously to the horizon of the road, with a clatter to his teeth he stared as if in a trance to the spot several miles distant where he 'saw' Sam sick upon the ground and he could only guess the cause. Pip turned once more to look to his favorite cousin "we will see him soon Merry...soon" Pip muttered eyes round with the horror of what they'd soon themselves see.


	42. chapter 42: Longing

Faces of War

Chapter 42: Longing

Disclaimer: These marvelous creations, for the most part, are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. I merely borrow them for a short time as I seek to improve my skills as a writer.

vadersslave......My ideas come from the angst I see reflected in Frodo's face in the movies, from the depth of pain I see in the books and in the movie and through the belief that these simple hobbit type creatures never truly meant harm to those around them....so that the horrors visited upon them are that much more of an eye opener....that the world should turn it's back upon a race or group so devoted to the simple characteristics of love, respect and honor....yes, my "hammering away" at Frodo's purity and innocence may seem cruel...but like children around the globe, does Frodo ask to have such evil find him or does he make the best of the many evil circumstances that befall him?

Iorhael....I can't tell you how much your continued interest in this story means to me....just as I think I am reaching a "wrap up " point another image of the world I and the other hobbits would like to see creeps unbidden into my mind and so the story continues.....not to say that I am a hobbit...but I am a teacher and so I do tend to see the world through the eyes of it's smallest inhabitants!

Endymion2....your active participation in this story has meant the world to me....I hope to hone my skills as a writer whilst entertaining the many fans of LOTR....I did not count on enjoying the experience quite so much....blessings on your comments and your images!

Althea....Frodo's pain is quite real....I myself have had toes amputated and several foot operations so I can speak quite well to the depth of pain that one goes through with trauma to ones feet....Frodo has always felt "different"anyway....only time will tell how well Frodo gets over his role in the many abuses he suffers.

BraellyleatherLeaf....thank you so much for your well thought out commentary regarding my writing...your review is just what I look to as I seek to increase the skill or aspirations behind my own writing! Qurag, despite his own dismal part in Frodo's and other middle earthen creatures survival, has done quite well with the division of labor or expectation of the swagmen etc around him. Chrys has been forever a part of Frodo's distant and well hidden memories....he has hidden her well, not wanting the love he felt for her to be in any way compromised by the sight of his efforts and the sound of his words. Chrys is the voice of reason and of love for Frodo, she lights his way and helps him see the possibilities that may lurk in the way of his future....Frodo will continue to hold to her voice and her image as he fights his way through the many layers of despair that threaten to overwhelm him!

Moonlightshadow....thank you for you words of faith and encouragement....I also think that Chrys is an important figure in Frodo's life...or at least the ideal life he aspires to! She will reappear to help him fight the shadows......

FantasyFan.....yes, very intense emotions....hard to go from Frodo's pain to the depth of emotion experienced by others in this chapter....I hope you continue to read...and review when time permits...I appreciate that my verbal wanderings have amused so many!

Kelllie....your pen name really has three "l's" ? I wondered about that each time you reviewed....I didn't know if it was a typo...I wondered if perhaps you were as tired as I when you sat down at long last to address the interests of your imagination....I can see I was wrong! Thanks so much for sticking with the story...yes we do terrible, unimaginable things to Frodo...but only in the name of "poetic license"! He will have to fight the shadows that threaten to pull him under if he is to see the "light" of his life and spend more time with his love....who of course met her untimely demise in "Gift of the Valar"....or did she?

Lovethosehobbits....I would never....aghast at the very suggestion....end the life of my favorite hobbit.....he is far stronger than the wounds of mere men after all....having been through the pain of amputated toes and several foot surgeries myself ( and I've since run marathons to raise funds for the nat'l arthritis foundation) I know that what does n't kill us can make us stronger...so that is the guiding premise of much of my writing.....I'm glad that you are following my story...I only wish I could crank it out faster...I am long on ideas and woefully short on time...alas!

On to the story......

Faramir raised a weary hand to halt the progression of his men. From his position atop the knoll nearest the water he looked back over the dust covered shades of exhaustion that coated the loyal members of his guard. Scarce thirty men he had, thirty men with the burden of the wagon carrying the injured boy and the healer's wards. A reluctant warrior he'd been at times, but he was still a warrior and the conditions of his travels made him wary. He swallowed his growing discomfort and scanned the horizon once more as the sound of an approaching rider came to his anxious ears. He twisted quickly in the saddle, feeling his back crack from the sudden shift in position, he grimaced from the slight discomfort but motioned the rider forward. "My lord" the captain of his men spoke, his voice sounding tentative in it's offing.

"What news from the scout Hanlon" Faramir queried without taking his eyes from the river vista finally open before him after their long days of travel. Hanlon hesitated but a moment, causing Faramir to raise a brow to aid his query. The cautious guard continued "Sir, the scout reports that the first ship sighted, the one farthest from Minas Tirith has been taken....the men left to guard her are dead or captive." Faramir's eyes never left the river before him as he contemplated his options. The silence grew and Hanlon feared his Lord had not heard the words he'd so dreaded to deliver, he tentatively began again "sir, I said that...." Faramir interrupted brusquely "I have heard your message....are there none left to tell the tale?". Hanlon frowned "none my lord....there were but 8 bodies upon the shore, the remaining men have been made slaves of the Corsairs." Faramir swore under his breath, he'd warned Aragorn that this might happen to the farthest ship....20 men or more as captives meant that the Corsairs held not enough sway to power the large craft reasonably, _if_ that were all the men available to direct the ship. He wondered what number of men the Corsairs held of their own, he once again found himself worried about what he would find as he reached the meeting point told to him by Aragorn.

He turned his face from the peaceful quietude of the river's expanse to fix the guard Hanlon in his hardened gaze. "Tell the men we ride through the night, we must reach the second ship before the Corsairs do....warn the healer that we will travel hard....there will be no stops till we reach our destination." Hanlon nodded his assent and wheeled his horse to turn towards the rest of the caravan. Faramir contemplated the quiet rolling beauty of the river one more moment, he gave his mind the luxury of wandering but an instant as he set his mind and body in motion once more and with a sharp pull of his reins, wheeled the horse about and headed down the knoll road which wound it's way along the river.

With an exasperated sound, halfway between a sigh and a grunt, the dwarf looked over his shoulder. "Hurry now young hobbits" he muttered as he pulled his ponies to a halt and waited for the wagon behind him to catch up. They were close now, he could feel it in every hair upon his head, the chance to do battle would soon be upon them and his eyes gleamed with the thought of the retribution that he might soon have notched into the worn blade of his axe. The rattle and groan of weary wood and tired harness soon brought the hobbits along side him and he turned to say something to them when he noticed the pale face and stricken eyes of the young Took. He, not wanting to overstep in his usual blustery fashion, looked to Merry to ascertain if all was well and was surprised to see that Merry's face was a study in avoidance, that the elder of the two cousins was studiously looking anywhere but at his companion. Gimli looked with no small amount of confusion from one countenance to another and was about to speak his piece when he heard the approaching hoofbeats of an elven steed. With a relieved grin he recognized at once the fair hair and careless grace of Legolas.

" Hah, well elf, 'tis time enough you v'e made it back to us then...what news and how much more of this dust must darken the blade of my favorite axe before my action upon the enemies of the Anduin washes them clean" he shouted in greeting as the elf effortlessly brought his steed to a stop beside the wagon.

Legolas looked briefly to the members of Gimli's group before answering, taking care that his words would not startle the young ones spilling about the two wagons "just over this ridge is our camp master dwarf, your skills shall be needed soon enough"the elf said with a casual raising of one eyebrow and the slight twitch of his lips that indicated the beginning of a faint smile. Gimli could see the worry reflected behind the elf's smile and he grunted " I shall see to it Elf that yer words are true" he said with narrowed eyes and a forced grin.

Gimli beckoned Legolas over closer as Pippin and Merry made busy checking that all the children were ready for the remainder of the trip. The dwarf, never taking his eyes from the orphans in his care, lowered his voice to a strident whisper " has master Baggins been found then?" he queried. Legolas, his eyes shifting from hobbit to dwarf to children replied softly "he is found and near to death, Aragorn asks that we distance the children from him, he is afraid of the strain for all involved....not least of which for the hobbits." Gimli frowned and tilted his head in the direction of the orphans in his keeping "Legolas, I canna keep the hobbits from their kin...master Pippin 'tis near beside himself with worry....what would you propose I do then?" The stalwart Dwarf looked to the wagon behind him, the orphan children were, as usual, quiet biddable and passive, yet a look of hope and of promise was beginning to break through their glassy stares and stony faces.

The two friends sat in silence a moment, both lost in their individual fears and worries as Galen stole up silently beside the wagon and laid a firm and steady hand on Gimli's arm. "I see yer worry Mister Gimli," the muscled man looked up to the elf still astride his mount " and I see yours as well Sir Legolas....the children will be best if given honest words, there have been too many lies in their lives...let me tell it to them" he pleaded. Gimli frowned and fair growled his discontent "what will ya tell then? Will ya tell 'em how they may not see their Ada Frodo again? Will ya tell 'em there is nothing they can do ta help?". Legolas looked with discomfort upon the quietly fidgeting group of children as they nudged one another and jostled for the best spots in the wagons, he too feared to disappoint them after all their travails, and he wondered at the words the man would bring the anxious children in his keeping.

Galen looked back to where Pippin and Merry were passing out food and water to the little ones, he thought of the strength of the children and the hopes of Frodo, he tightened his fears to him and held once more to his hope as he turned back to the dwarf "no, I shall tell them that there are other paths we are meant to take just now, that there are other ways that they may help their hobbit prince, other gifts they bring to aide this hobbit they have grown to love". Gimli grunted his understanding and nodded slowly as he stared meaningfully at the quiet elf. With that, Legolas bade the man to come to his side, he told Galen of the King's plan to have Faramir meet him at the site of the second ship, some ten leagues upriver. He spoke in a soft and barely discernable voice, glancing now and then towards the children "You must show caution Galen, the third ship has not been heard from, they have sent no scouts and Aragorn fears for them. Travel this river road, stop for nothing and you shall reach the bend in the Anduin that berths the second Corsair ship....look for Lord Faramir and his men, they number thirty, and they will keep you until we meet again."

Galen nodded and beckoned to Merry and Pippin to come forward as he steeled himself to tell of his plan to take their wagon. Gimli frowned and looked once more to the wagon overflowing with young ones and made his decision as he called after the form of the former guard "now wait you just a moment. ya may be big but in my years it is no more than a lad yer appearing, so I'll be along with you if ya don't mind, I'm no healer and I can do nothing to help yon master Baggins....but I've become quite good at...." he flicked the reins in his hands "handling a team" he said with a smirk as Legolas lifted an eyebrow in bemused admiration.

Within moments Galen had pulled Kylos aside and had explained that the King had a new purpose for the children, one which would mean delaying their reunion with Frodo. Kylos nodded stoically, he knew, somehow from the depths of his heart, that he would see Frodo again and the news that Faramir traveled with Rosetta was enough to set his fears for the hobbit to rest. The serious lad spoke briefly with the children in the wagons and with a little more shuffling and the common purpose given them by Kylos and Galen they were able to discard some of the supplies and load all 28 of the orphans into the one cart. Merry and Pippin moved the remaining supplies into the lead cart and switched places with Gimli. The gruff Dwarf patted Pippin on the head "rest assured young Hobbit that none will look to the wellness of your kin quite like the Elf and the King...so chin up there lad...and give Frodo a wink fer me if you will". Pippin, who was still quite undone by the fears that his imagination gave way to, was for a moment overwhelmed with the intent of Gimli's kind words and he could only nod tearfully with a sad grimace to mark his assent, then as Gimli turned to walk to the rear wagon he called out, his voice shaken and tentative but growing in strength "I'll do ye one better Gimli...I'll teach Frodo the new drinking song taught us by Galen, though he'll get none 'o the ale ta go with it." Gimli's laugh could be heard echoing amidst the rocks as he shouted "hi ah" and turned the ponies to start off down the river road.

The sun was at it's zenith, the heat of the day dancing upon the stark rocks about them as Merry and Pippin, with a last look to Gimli and a nervous glance to Legolas set off over the ridge to find what was left of their cousin.

The crackling of the fire drew Aragorn's attention away from his patient, he tended the steadiness of the flame, carefully poking the embers with his knife to ensure the constant heat needed to simmer his herbal infusions. He put down his knife and stood to bend over the pot which Sam had set to boil, he stirred the herbal mixture and glanced over the top of the flames to watch the hobbits. Sam was mechanically dipping a clean rag in the basin by his side and wringing it out as he slowly wiped the sweat and pain from Frodo's brow. Dip, wring and swipe, the steady hobbit's motions were efficient and practiced, love and worship present in each careful stroke of his hands. The King watched the patient motions of the hobbit gardener, admiring the way in which Sam could read the needs of the master that he served, knowing that there could be no better judge of the ringbearer's desires than the steady servant who'd grown up a faithful admirer of the dark haired hobbit beside him.

With a sigh Aragorn grabbed a rag and lifted the small iron pot from the flames, he poured it into a small wooden dipper and blew upon it, hoping to cool it enough to pass Sam's muster. He brought it to where Frodo lay, the beaded sweat of fever upon his brow. He waited until Sam was once more through his routine of dip, wring and wipe before he extended it towards the steadied countenance of Frodo's servant and friend. Sam looked up "he's becoming restless again Strider, I think the pain 'tis too much" he said, his voice cracking as he looked to the bandages upon his master's foot, blood and pus seeping through dressings which were only a few hours old. Strider nodded " I know Sam, I see how restless he becomes...we must give him more of the valerian root as we are weaning him from the poppy...yet we must go easy, the valerian will slow his heart as it eases his pain, something I fear to overdo." The King paused as he saw the shades of pain cross over the ringbearer's face, he looked Sam square in the eye " I know you share his hurts Sam, but he needs his pain to guide his healing....we will not help him by hiding his pain forever in a veil of oblivion such as the poppy offers....so we will reduce the poppy as the valerian is increased in small doses".

The practical hobbit beside him nodded, his eyes shining with the tears that Strider knew he was loathe to let fall. Aragorn scooted down to a place by Frodo's foot, he lifted the blood stained white dressings and looked intently at the newest hurt in Frodos' repertoire of discomforts. He knew in his heart that Sam harbored growing resentment for the pain caused his master by the world of men, he himself felt uneasy about his choice to operate in such a drastic measure with no guidance from Gandalf, he shook off his doubts as he explained "Sam, it was for his own good that I cut where I did... I could not ensure his survival if the bones beside his initial hurt were allowed to fester. " Sam nodded slowly, and looked to the wrappings in the King's hand with a heavy heart as he worried now not just for the life of his friend, but for the future days and accusing glances he'd have at his disposal whilst living the life of gentry in the Shire.

Sam found his mind playing tricks on him and he saw in the span of seconds flashes of memories and moments with the Frodo of his youth....a jubilant Frodo dancing at the Green Dragon, an out of breath Frodo....chest heaving in his effort and heart racing like the wind as he ran to the willow tree, a sweat and dust covered Frodo working shoulder to shoulder with other lads to bring in the harvest. He felt a cloud of despair descend upon him and wondered what life would be left in the spirit of his master....as he saw over and over again the vision of a strong and fully able master tackling the daily challenges presented by his spirit and his place in hobbit society.

Aragorn watched the dark clouds of worry descend over Sam's face and he with a vow of strength and determination turned his attention back to the task at hand, his lips pursed in concern. He carefully unwrapped the dressing and bringing a basin of warmed and scented water forward, he gently bruised the athelas leaves and mixed them with the marigold petals as he dropped them into the basin with an elven incantation on his lips. He murmured his words of healing and taking the wounded foot he carefully submerged it in the water. The body of the ringbearer tensed and Sam uttered soothing sounds as he reached to hold Frodo's hands. Aragorn gently rinsed the wounded area, surveying the dark red and fading purple streaks that ran from the site of the severed toes and the spliced bones of the damaged foot. He massaged the site of the newly amputated bone, delicately forcing fresh blood to flow as the remnants of deadened flesh and partially clotted scabs broke free their hold upon infected fluids. Frodo's unconscious body tensed further and he moaned as his face began to twitch in his efforts to remain insensate.

Sam's sharply indrawn breath and gradually growing string of softly spoken words alerted Aragorn to the ringbearer's changing state of consciousness. He looked up from his massaging of the foot to see Frodo struggling to open his eyes. "Sam" he hissed "the valerian, give him another dose". Sam, eyes wide in fear moved quickly to the fire and brought a dipper of the infused poppy and valerian mixture to the side of his friend. He knelt down and carefully tucking his arm behind Frodo's head, lifted the pale and sweat drenched face of his friend to bring the dipper close to his mouth. Aragorn ceased his manipulation of the foot while he waited for Sam to administer the sedative, his eyes glued to the softly fluttering eyelids of the pain wracked hobbit. "Shh Mr. Frodo" Sam crooned "here it 'tis then, just a bit now, there ya go sir....this'll aid ya then" he whispered soothingly as he eased the dipper to Frodo's lips. Blue circles, sunken and black rimmed from pain, stared back to Sam's hazel eyes, an eerie disorientation making the blue of Frodo's eyes seem unnaturally bright. For a brief moment the blue orbs seemed to focus and Sam shuddered as he saw the depth of his master's agony "Sam" Frodo whispered beseechingly "make it...stop" his words were so faint that Sam had to bend closer "let...me, let me go Sam...no...more..pain" he gasped his final words and shook with a violent chill as his eyes, overcome with the weight of his words stared a moment to his friend then slowly shut once more.

The melody of the river's rushing water was the only sound heard for a moment as Aragorn reached to clasp Sam's shoulder, to steady the stoic gardener and protect him from his vision of Frodo's agony. "Sam" he whispered "he does not know of what he speaks....the pain and the poppy have brought him this low". Sam, his master's head lovingly clasped in his arms, turned his tear filled eyes to the Ranger who had been his hero "he can take no more Strider, no more...you heard 'em...how much more pain must he 'ave before we are strong enough to say 'tis done?"

Aragorn, eyes stinging with unshed grief, stared at the simple love shining in Sams face and slowly shook his head "I do not know Sam, I know only that it is not his time yet....the will of the Valar will not be served in his request...it is not his time" he whispered brokenly, his eyes begging for understanding. Sam's face grew hard and he turned from Striders gaze long enough to kiss his master's tangled curls and gently lay his head down before turning once more to face the King "What of_ his_ will, what of _his_ choices in this world Aragorn? Is he to have no say in the shaping of his future? Is he to forever be a pawn in the game these elven gods

play? Has he not given enough to this world he can bear no longer? " Sam's voice gradually became louder with the parry and thrust of each of his words until his voice cracked under the strain of his emotions and he coldly hissed "if you know what shadow of a life the Valar have planned for him, if you carry the secrets of his future in your _mans_ heart, then I suggest you tell me of it soon... before I take his future into my hands...before I give him what his hobbit soul desires and what his gentle spirit deserves ."

With that Sam slowly stood and with an scowl of anger and body tense with hatred he moved away, without a backwards glance, to seek the peace of the river's rhythm and ceaseless flow. He sat beside the soothing motion of the Anduin, his mind swirling with emotion, his good hobbit heart in turmoil as he contemplated the last words of his master. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his head in his arms as his eyes fixed upon the sparkle and shimmer of the deeply flowing expanse of water before him. 'Oh Mr. Frodo, me heart is fixed to break, don't put your Sam in such a fix....how am I to help you if its an end yer seekin'? I am no wise wizard or powerful man, I am just yer friend....one who wants only the best for ya, but what is yer best? How could we have walked through death only ta be found by darkness once more?'. His simple hobbit senses rebelled at the notion of seeking an end to life, for like all of his race, he believed only in seeing the best in all situations. He shook his head, a single tear trailing over cheek and chin as he was forced to confront the notion that perhaps death would be the best choice for his master, perhaps the world as he knew it was no longer deserving of Frodo's spirit. He closed his eyes and his shoulders shook as silent sobs overcame his thoughts and he gave in to his pain.

The Steward of Gondor stood a moment in his stirrups, his eyes shielded from the fading sun he tracked a cloud of dust that traveled some miles behind them. He cursed under his breath, the wagon with the healer and his charges was slowing down once more. He signaled the riders on ahead to wait and he retraced his steps to reach the steady 'clop, clop' of the cart ponies. As he was about to hail them he heard a tremendous screeching groan and watched in horror as the cart's axle gave way and the driver struggled to maintain the carts upright position. He heard a scream from inside the canvas covering and held his breath as the wagon lurched to it's awkward halt with a groan of breaking wood and the harsh neigh of panicked ponies. Faramir urged his horse onward and reached the cart just as the leather flap at the rear was lifted and Terren peeked his head out of the covering.

"We are not hurt my Lord" Terran said with a catch in his throat. Faramir rode closer and dismounted, he lifted the flap of the wagon and found himself staring at the wide eyed and tense faces of Rosetta and the lad. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that none were hurt and then he turned to Terran "you were fortunate Healer, now you shall have to stay and fix your wagon before you can travel." He walked to the site of the broken axle and contemplated his options as he paused once more then pulled Terran out of earshot of the children "perhaps it is best that you wait here while we scout ahead.". The healer nodded "aye, the lad shakes with terror at the thought of coming once more upon the Corsairs Lord Faramir, I fear they have done him harm that he has yet to tell of." Faramir frowned, he did not relish the thought of leaving them here with only the driver for protection, he looked intently to the elderly healer "give yourself an hour or two, no more, to attempt repair, if you do not make progress in that time, abandon the wagon, make for one of the caves that are clustered in the far bluffs to the west of us. I will find you in a days time if you do not come to us." Terran nodded as Faramir continued ....see to it that the children leave nothing behind if the wagon needs to be abandoned. Terran nodded silently and waited for Faramir to exchange words with the driver before retreating inside the wagons' coverings once more. Once inside he found Garth and Rosetta clinging fearfully to one another. "Now , now lad...that a boy...all will be fine, we need only a few hours of repair before we shall be off once more." Garth nodded with fear coloring his every motion yet he looked up bravely as Faramir looked to him and asked with a shaky voice "shall we bring ourselves to the water's edge sir? Or shall we wait here for further orders?"

The Steward looked thoughtfully at the boy beside him "you shall help Terran and the driver fix the broken axle and then head upstream, if in the next hour or two you are not able to fix the wagon, then help Terran empty the provisions and make camp near the bluff to the west. I will come to you as soon as I can spare the men." Garth nodded soundlessly and tried to smile as Faramir next bent and ruffled the curls of the lass by his side "and_ you_ must be brave young one and listen to the orders of Terran....he is my second in command and will be your leader until I return, understood?" Rosetta smiled as she asked "may I be your third in command Lord Faramir? I should like to show Ada Frodo how brave I can be." Faramir laughed "all right, third in command it is....you shall be given charge of the ponies, now mind Terran and I shall be back in a day if I do not see you sooner."

As Faramir mounted once more, he turned one last time to see Terran and the driver deep in discussion about the broken wagon as Rosetta was helping Garth empty the wagon. He felt a shiver and an uneasy prickling of his skin as he frowned and rode once more along the river road seeking the meeting place told to him by Aragorn. He dismissed his unease as the response of his body to the sudden shift in the river breeze and he turned his attention to the next task before him.


	43. chapter 43: connecting

Faces of War

Chapter 43: connecting

Disclaimer...The characters within this story( or the majority of them) are the creation of Mr. Tolkien and his estate...I merely borrow them for a brief time to amuse myself and entertain the readers of this tale...

Shelbyshire...late or no, welcome to the tale...I hope that my late addition to its events does not put you off! I actually misplaced my character notes and have only just recently been able to re-write this chapter...please offer me what advice you feel would make this story more enjoyable!

My writing is done as a learning experience...I love the story begun by JRR and seek to further my own skills as a writer by "Borrowing" the boys for a time...but I am very anxious to learn how readers respond to the ideas and images I create...so please, please feel free to "shape" my story with your advice!

Althea...My heart aches for Sam...his love for Frodo is so pure and strong...the friendship they feel for one another is to me the ideal upon which all friendships who'd benefit from being based upon...although few in real life seem to compare! Aragorn learns of love from his time with the "little folks" in his charge during the quest...and he learns of how to cope with sorrow and hopelessness in the days after the quest as he himself seeks to become a man worthy to lead the world from the shadows of Sauron to the promise of the new age...I feel that Aragon's gentleness is a tribute to his acceptance of the importance the smallest folk of his time played in the events that formed his world!

endymion2...Bless you for keeping with this tale! I have encountered my share of difficulties...which I hope are "fixed" now...so on with the tale! Many seem trapped in the pain of others don't they? Our Sam seeks to find a way to bring relief to one he loves...I am certain that there must be no more painful a situation in which to find oneself ( unless it is to be trapped in the shadow cast by the madness of one you love...see Willow Wode's saga...a pain so intense I cannot yet touch upon it).

TTTurtle...I am indebted to you for sticking with this story...please do not apologize for the erratic reviews...goodness...my writing has been fraught with delays and setbacks...I am learning so much about the craft of writing form my time on am truly grateful to all who read and help me through the growing pains of my stories! An "expert" at angst...I am blushing madly I can assure you! Angst is merely the pain and "bumps" in the rode experienced by the tellers of a tale...do not worry overmuch about the degree of angst suffered...it will all work out for the good of the tale! Frodo's foot has been left relatively intact...you will see in this chapter...Aragorn seeks to remove the infection without ending the life of his friend or further incurring the wrath of Sam! The Corsairs, bless them, are hardy "evil doers" and will be seen again!

Kelllie...Self determination...how few of us actually have it...we are all, to some extent "trapped" in the good or bad graces of others it would seem...Sam wants for nothing more than for his childhood hero to feel no pain...but does he realize that pain is the crucible that his beloved Mr. Frodo was forged within? Sam has a lot of reconciling to do...and will need the love and support of others of his kind to help him see that his love for Mr. Frodo can have more than one path upon which to travel! Three "l's"...I shan't forget it!

Moonlightshadow...When I write...I become "sunk" or "imeresed" in the world's my characters inhabit...I sometimes don't realize the import of the words they've uttered until a reader points them out...thank you for highlighting this dialog...Sam is certainly one of the bravest and most certainly the most true character in Tolkien's story...thank you for your observations!

BraellyraLeatherleaf...Bless you for sticking with it...I am ashamed to admit I lost one of my character notebooks and have had to spend time recreating some details...I hope you'll stick with it to the end...the love that Frodo and Sam live through this tale is one which brings me hope...

The day drew on, long hours spent tending fire and patient, long hours the King sought to fill with meaningful tasks which served both to help the ringbearer and to keep him from Sam's unyielding side. With yet another sigh Aragorn glanced over his shoulder to watch Sam, he took in the stiff posture and stock still carriage of the hobbit and knew that Sam was not yet ready. He turned to Qurag "my friend, I am in need of time in meditation to help me find some answers...I seek words of advice from some who know much more than I about healing...would you...?" Aragorn found himself at a loss for words and stared with confusion to the pitted and darkened face beside him. "I watch, take care of tale teller, you think on next care " Qurag said with a sure and steady smile as he laid his large roughened hand upon the kings shoulder. Aragorn did his best not to be startled by the touch, but still he found himself stepping back, his body unable to stay it's flight response when in the proximity of one whose kind he'd only ever killed.

Qurag observed the King's body language sadly, it would be a long time before the evil, the memories of hurt and hatred that existed between Orcs and other races would be eased up enough for true friendship to exist, if ever. He would have to settle for an uneasy truce, a common ground of hope and he knew that caring for the halfling creature would bring them to such a place. He stared long at Aragorn and then said, his voice rough and brusque "You go now, Durzak and I take care..." He gestured to the shaded spot where Frodo lay in fevered slumber "he sleep you go now." he said his dark eyes searching the light held deep within the kings dramatic blue eyes.

Aragorn, with a tightening of his lips and a nod of supplication turned and walked to a path in the brush he'd seen earlier. He sought a place of quiet and solitude, yet one not so far that he could not be raised by cries of help or need. He spied a log fallen beneath the spreading branches of a spruce tree and he lowered himself to sit upon it, his back pressed to the rounded comfort of the trunk behind him. He raised his hand and rubbed his temple wearily, the images of the past days flew through his mind and he found himself once more asking 'where are you Gandalf? What would you have me do to aid Frodo?'. With these thoughts foremost in his consciousness, he cleared his mind of all but these questions and sought through the time and space of his memories to find his friend of many ages.

A swirling vortex filled his minds eye, gradually the distant sound of running water, the smell of the campfire and the sensation of sun upon his face all faded away and in it's place was left the softness of clouds and the whisperings of voices. _Aragorn, you pursue the right path my friend _he heard the soft voice continue _do not let him go, his tasks here are not yet finished...he will find his deliverance _. The voice was joined by another, a smooth weapon of persuasion that found it's way to Aragorns heart with words of softly crafted adamant _. He will have all that he once loved,The Valar have seen his pain and been with him through his trials. He must live to seek the life of the Eldar Aragorn...do not let him stray from this, his final quest, for his love awaits him there..._

Aragorn's images gave rise to many questions, all battled with one another seeking to be answered_. 'What of Sam?' _He thought '_What more can be done to ease the suffering they share?'_

The first voice answered sadly _Sam will be unable to bring his master the peace he seeks, he is too strong in his love of Frodo, and too weak in his belief in himself, in his belief that his path has merit. _The second, more commanding voice continued _Frodo's pain shall be his guide, through his loss he will gain the strength he needs to continue. _Aragorn reached once more, with his thoughts, into the clouded void _Ada, I have not your healing skills...through choice or no I may not have the ability to save the ringbearer, he grows weak from the abuses he has suffered...the hands of men have brought him pain Ada...he has suffered deeply the hatred and insecurities of those less than he. _All was deeply quiet for a moment and then a third voice, more melodic and soothing in it's cadence came to the King _you will tell him...you will be his voice of reason for he must not forget..._ _he is my light in this world, or any other Aragorn King, remind him of his promise...his love will light the way for others until he is with me again...remind him...his journey is not yet done, my pilgrim has yet to choose...he has still to see the array of his future...do not let him go... _The third voice faded away, it's last words filled with tears and weary resignation. Aragorn felt a weight upon him with these words

and with a sinking heart knew that there would be more suffering before Frodo would have the strength to make his choice. _Aragorn, look to the children my friend, _the first voice said, his words growing firm in their quietly uttered conviction _he will find his strength through the eyes of the children._

Aragorn slowly came back to his senses, the crisp smell of pine boughs, the roughness of bark upon his fingertips, the quiet voices of Qurag and Durzakregistering bit by bit in his mind. He remained sitting a few moments longer, mulling over the words given him Gandalf, Elrond and third voice he could only guess as Chrys's. So Gandalf has succeeded he mused as he stiffly got up and with a determined pursing of his lips returned to camp and prepared to do battle for the two hobbits who were most dear to him.

Terren looked back over his shoulder, in the far distance he could just see that the driver of the wagon was taking one of the ponies to find a piece of tree timber sturdy enough to be formed as a new axle. He was a bit uneasy about separating from the man he knew to be trained in use of weapons, but he knew they could not hold up the others, too many lives depended upon the speed and efficiency of their meeting with the King. He looked ahead, Garth and Rosetta, both newly arisen from their sickbeds, were struggling to carry what little weight he'd been forced to give them. The healer tightened his hand upon the makeshift lead rope of the pony at his side, he sighed while contemplating trying to affix the children's small bundles to the already overloaded beast. He opted to call a halt instead and with a quick cry to head for the yonder copse of trees he directed the children to seek the distant shade as their resting point.

Garth sank gratefully to the pine needles below him, his legs were trembling from his trek and he wiped the sweat from his face with a shaky hand. The blond curls beneath Rosetta's kerchief were suddenly freed as the lass shook her head to bring a breeze to her damp locks. "whew , it 'tis hot" she said as she turned to fan a quiet Garth with her damp kerchief. "Aye" he whispered faintly and he leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes. Terren brought a water skin over and squatted beside the lad "here ye go then lad, take small sips, there ye go...not too much at once, there ye go" he said encouragingly before handing the skin to Rosetta. He watched her drink but a moment and then held out his hand to retrieve the lightened skin. They would have to be careful to conserve their water if it was to last them the several days it might take for Faramir to find them. His thoughts were broken by Garth's quiet question "how much further Terren?".

The healer stood and gestured to the west, across an expanse of small tree groupings, brush and dusty rock strewn pathways to a distant ridge. " 'Tis over there that lord Faramir told us to wait for him, so it's over there we shall go. Another 5 or 6 hours of walking should bring us fair close to it Garth." Terren paused when he saw the lad pale at the thought of so much walking "now don't ya be worrying, we'll take it slow with lots of rest stops lad...and if we must we'll take turns settin' astride the pack pony." Rosetta clambered closer to the worried lad beside her, she took his hand in hers and said earnestly "I can carry a bit more Garth, I shouldn't mind helpin' you." Garth smiled weakly "you must think me without strength or courage, for that I am sorry" the slight lad sighed heavily and looked apologetically to his traveling companions..."it's just that everything seems to take such effort, effort which at times seems not worth the trouble...and I sometimes worry that soon you'll think the same of me." he said, his words fading as he cast his eyes downward, shamefully avoiding their gaze.

Terren shook his head sadly and pulling firmly upon the lead rope, tied the pony to a nearby branch before coming to sit down on the other side of the small boy. "Garth, we've all been through times of pain and trouble lad, no one is about to cast blame upon ya for feeling tired and full of doubts." The elderly man placed his gnarled hand upon the boys dark curls gently as he soothed the wind blown locks from the thin face 'ye've not got ta worry about such things...it's together we've been brought and together we shall stay...am I making myself heard now?" he asked gently. Garth nodded, and wiped a sudden tear from his cheek as he found his throat suddenly too tight to speak. He grabbed the wrinkled old hand of the healer and placed it shyly against his cheek before bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss. "Thank you Terren, I'd be lost if not for you and the princess here...I've no one else" he whispered softly. Terren nodded "I know lad, I know" he said his soft words a mantra of sustenance to his own troubled thoughts..."nor do we...but we have each other so lets be off then so we can reach the ridge by nightfall."

With a quick smile, an encouraging pat upon the lads knee and a few last murmured words of encouragement, the healer got his two charges upon their feet and they continued on their way.

The sun was displaying the last of it's energy as the cooling early evening breezes fought for their place in the gradually dimming sky as Merry and Pippin rode their lightened cart over the last hill and into the shade of spruce trees that marked the Kings camp. The smell of a lightly smoking campfire and the gently wafting aroma of athelas greeted their senses as they found their cart suddenly halted by the harsh guttural sounds of orc voices in the distant trees. Merry turned to Pippin in fear, unable to suppress the memories of their treatment at the hands of Saurman's minions, he cried "draw swords Pip, we may see battle yet..." Pippin, only too glad to appease his elder cousin quickly grasped his noldorian blade, his head swiveling from side to side to seek the evil coming their way. He soon saw instead, coming from behind a stand of trees by the rivers, the quiet smile of a familiar face, the sandy haired form of Frodo's friend and gardener. "Sam" he cried "watch out!" as he saw the muscular frame and dark pitted skin of Qurag emerge from the trees. Sam raised a hand in greeting and called out "not to worry Master Pippin, Qurag 'tis a friend of Frodo, he'll do ye no harm" he said trying to soothe the fear from the young hobbit. Merry looked uneasily to the form of the Orc, who had at Merry's insistent warning, frozen. Durzak's hand rested upon his arm in caution, and as they stood quietly amidst the nearby trees, their Orc nature drawn into question, they stayed their bodies and waited . Sam tried again "they'll do ye no harm master Merry" Sam tried to explain, his weary but anxious eyes wanting to impart the goodness of these creatures who'd tried so very hard to keep Frodo from the pain that waited for him..."it'll take some explaining, but trust in this, they are friend...not foe." Merry, looking to the still and quiet stance of these formerly warlike creatures, nodded slowly, hearing the sincerity in Sam's voice and he slowly pried the sword from Pippins hand and motioned his cousin down from the cart. " Sam, we're glad you're here...we thought this was where we'd find ya, but it 'tis good to see you my friend" Merry said as he jumped down from the cart and clasped the gardener in a welcome hug. Pippin stared fearfully at the Orcs a moment and climbing slowly down from the relative safety of his seat upon the cart turned to Sam " Yes Sam, it's good you're here... Where is Frodo ? Is he OK then? How is he?" he asked, his words tumbling from him in a flood of inquiry.

Sam cast his eyes anxiously to a small stand of young spruce near to the camp fire. "Frodo's sore hurt he is, Aragorn's had ta operate once already to reduce his fever,...and feels he may again need to" Sam grimaced and frowned in disgust " he's removed a further portion of his foot to prevent his infection from spreading," he swallowed and clamped his lips to a line straight with worry "he may yet need ta remove more of the infected bone ta bring Frodo from the depth of his fever. " Pippin looked with horror to Merry 'remove more?' he mouthed, not wanting to further upset a clearly distraught Sam. Merry, who'd grown up amidst the harsh realities of life upon a working landholding, knew such things to be prevalent among hobbits of the working class, for accidents of farm and field were not uncommon...although the children of the gentry were often held from such notions of pain and images of deformity, he flashed a softly reassuring smile to his dearest cousin and uttered a brief prayer beneath his breath that Frodo should be able to weather this, his newest storm.

Pippin looked about him, eyes frantically searching the surrounding camp area for the mound of blankets that was sure to be his dearly loved cousin. Images of his vision, pictures in his mind of a pain ravaged Frodo crying out for relief were ever present in his mind and he needed desperately to reconcile his images to the realities of his present circumstances. Sam, noticing Pippins frantic viewing of the camp site reached to take the hobbit lads arm "he's this way Mr. Pippin" he said, his voice filled with soft despair "follow me...Aragorns's placed him in this hollow by the trees, to shelter him from the breezes of the river". Sam, with a head bowed in his reluctant acceptance of the circumstances before him, led Pippin, and a now closely following Merry, to Frodo's resting place. "What has he said to you Sam"? Merry's voice worked hard to sound casual, but he felt a tremor in his words and stopped frozen in amazement at the scene before him near the copse of trees and the soft hollow in the roots of the trees which held Frodo softly nestled within.

Within forty feet of their wagon, there amidst the sheltering roots of a large Spruce tree, nestled in a bed of softly fallen needles, lay the pale and still remnants of the Hobbit the fellowship had sworn to protect. The still form, slight and frail amidst a profusion of blankets, looked as a starved and ailing refugee child from a land at war. The dark curls lay lank and dull upon a face that was pale and damp with the sweat of fever. The body lay so quiet that for a heartbeat Pippin feared they were arrived too late and his strangled cry of grief had a cousins worried arm about him in a flash of seconds as they moved closer to the withered form before them.

Pippin, barely able to catch his breath from worry dropped to his knees and stared at what remained of his once lively and beloved cousin. "Frodo, oh no, Frodo...where have you gone to?" he asked, his voice wavering in it's uncertain questions. The fair haired Took lad gently pulled back the cover of blankets upon his cousin and reached for a hand, a hand that still showed the remnants of another life, nails bitten to the quick, dark stains and callouses marking the passage of his hours as a writer who'd only just begun to resume his passion in the halls of Minas Tirith. Pippin stared with horror at the damp and pale face, cheekbones too prominent and dark circles beneath Frodo's eyes giving the illusion of a death mask and he felt a tear in the corner of his eye. He broke away from his view of Frodo to look for a moment to Merry's face, registering the same shock and horror upon his countenance as he knew himself to be wearing. "What has happened to him Sam" he whispered."has he awoken at all?" he whispered harshly.

Sam, knelt upon the other side of his masters face and bringing a dampened towel to Frodo's forehead said "Men Mr Pippin, Men hurt 'em...he's not said so himself, but he took fearful hurt from his time with 'em...he...he asked me ta end it for him"his last words a strangled whisper as he continued to mechanically wipe the fevered skin. Sam cocked his head to one side and put down the fever rag in favor of his hand as he lightly ran his rough calloused fingers along the delicately sculptured face of his fallen hero, his eyes held a soft and saddened air of inevitability ."I seen him suffer this deep before, in the caves of Mordor I vowed I'd never let no such hurt 'appen to 'im again...my heart tells me he's too good for this world, it's time mayhap I let 'im go...no more pain Frodo me dear, no more pain 'tis all yer Sam is hoping for ya now" his last words were spoken with soft strength and velvety comfort as he bent down to press a light kiss of promise to a forehead lost in its fevered world.

Merry and Pippin exchanged a look of horror, and Merry cleared his throat to speak, his hand gripping a shaking Pip's arm "Sam...don't even speak of such nonsense...Frodo'd not want it, not really...why it 'tis just his pain, his fever speaking Sam" Merry hesitated, uncertain which tact to take, knowing he should gentle the gardener from such notions when all he really wanted was to shake the thought of Frodo's leaving right from him, to throttle the loyal servant just for thinking in such a way. He took a deep breath to steady himselffeeling Pippins firm squeeze of his ownarm in return "Sam" he said, his voice a study in self control "let's give Strider a chance ta heal 'em...what with the King's healing skills and our good hobbit nursing we'll have Frodo dancing in no time." Merry pasted what he hoped was an encouraging grin upon his face and waited for Sam's response.

Sam continued to stroke Frodo's face, his eyes lost in a dream of days gone by as two hobbits, a ranger turned King and two Orcs, former enemies who'd become new found saviorswatched from the shadows. "You don't see it do you?" Sam questioned softly "'Tis not the ills of the body that tax him so...it 'tis his spirit...his light is fading because his spirit sees no more good in this world." Sam stayed the soothing motion of his hand and turned to face them, an agony of conflict shining in his eyes,"and I can't give 'em no more hope when all I see is wickedness...I can't give 'em hope that t'aint there, I jest can't." Sam reached up to rub his forehead and run his hand through his tousled curls and with a deep breath finished his thoughts " he can't live in a world with no hope, he's had ta fight all his life ta scratch out what little light he could find in days gone dark...days with no folks, times of teasing, moments of doubt and blame...but he had hope, always a light from distant stars and tales of noble deeds" Sam paused to check himself, to find just the right words and then he continued. "Now, now the most noble deed of all would be ta let him go, to help him find his way to his peace, to show him the way ta being the lead in his own story of grace and good deeds, and hope that he'll find light in his next word for this one will be forever dark...but, I jest don't know where I'll find the strength to share this final love with 'em." Sam turned once more to Frodo and took his lifeless hand in his and held it to his cheek "oh where Master? Where am I ta find the strength yer needin' most from yer Sam?" and he began to cry, his shoulder shaking with great sobs as his despair overtook him in silent torture.

Merry, his face stony with the knowledge of what his next step needed to be, took Sam's face in his two hand and said " love Sam, love will be the force that pulls 'em back..." the future master of Brandybuck hall straightened his back and took on an air that would broke no nonsense as he continued. "Sam, Frodo has the light of the future...the knowledge that his actions saved a world". Sam nodded and said "aye, but be that as it may Merry, I think those wanting ta help, those that love 'em best in this world...or any other...need more time to think on this...we need more time and according ta Strider that's jest what we don't have" he said, his agony etched in lines of worry upon his sun reddened face.

Merry looked up from his position at Sam's side to see the deeply saddened face of the Ranger who'd been their champion during the many months of the quest. Aragorn, his eyes boring a hole in Merry's heart slowly shook his head and Merry knew that Sam's words were true...Frodo was running out of time.

The three weary travelers struggled to keep one foot going ahead of the other as the day wore on and the heat of the day faded to the early cool of evening. Terren stopped and rested his hand against the flank of the softly snorting pony beside him. He turned to look back, the distance between he and the children was growing again, he would have to wait for them to catch up once more and then perhaps put one of them upon the pack pony. He hated to burden the animal more, but he could see that his fellow travelers were tired beyond complaint and they needed to reach the safety of the far caves before night fell too heavily.He waited for the shuffling steps of the children to come closer, he idly adjusted one of the straps of the pack as he waited and then with an uncanny sense of right and wrong realized that the noise of scuffling feet and the skitter of mindlessly kicked stones was absent. He looked up from the pony, eyes frantically looking, searching the path he'd just traveled. With a sickening lurch in his stomach he saw not just the figures of the children he was charged to protect, but the grimly smiling countenance of six muscled and dark haired men. Terren's eyes opened wide in terror as he watched two of the men remove knifes from their sheaths at their waists and hold them teasingly to the slender white necksof both Garth and Rosetta.Keldor, with a gleam in his eye,walked to the boys side and reached forward to gently fondle the lad's dark curls before slowly entwining his fingers in Garth's chestnut curls as he yanked the fearful head back and looked into his eyes "did you miss me lad?" he asked mockingly and his men slowly smiled as their captain's laughter rang out over the stark landscape.


	44. chapter 44: Harbinger

Faces of War

Chapter 44: Harbinger

Disclaimer: The Characters, or at least most of them, are the work of JRR Tolkien, I merely "dabble" in some altered universe situations our hobbits could have encountered!

Julia baggins...I am happy you are enjoying the story...it has become rather more complex than I had first envisioned it...but Frodo is still alive and is going to very soon regain some of his stubborn strength and tenacity!

Althea...all I can say is "wow"...you certainly put a lot of thought into your reviews! Yes, Sam is "fair well torn in two"...and I am glad you enjoyed seeing Merry and Pippin ( I am afraid I had to spirit them off in this chapter so that they may show up elsewhere soon!)...with the cousins now gone Sam is at a "low"...to tired, to heartsick to now what to do to help! Aragorn finds his direction in this chapter...yes, he too is torn...but his answer is born of the same thing that fuels Sams angst...love.

lovethosehobbits...thank you for saying that...this story is taking me by surprise...it keeps twisting and turning and I struggle not to get so far from the original story line that I'll "lose my threads" so to speak...but thank you for sticking with it...it is coming to a "head" now...soon, very soon more characters will come together. I re-read a chapter in Phantasism...and me a Psych minor...tsk tsk...how could I have missed the Pavlov thing? Silly of me! How did the cycle get broken? "Just" through the kindness and love of Sam etc...or is Lorelei setting Frodo up to see him "fall" even harder later?

endymion2...Yep...the swarthy, sweaty and bare chested bad guys are back...Keldor is feeling a might put out about a few things...which will soon be very important! I keep trying to slip Chrys in...seeking to have her love "tug" at Frodo...to give him incentive to fight back...he will soon find other incentives as well! I am not at all ashamed to admit that I do not have a Beta...nor do I know how to go about getting one...how it works...etc...I am very open to the notion of obtaining one...do you know where one might be found and how much groveling I have to do in order to obtain their services? Please feel free to correct me...I love to write and want to "get better"...so as they say "no pain, no gain"...Thanks for the review!

Braellyleatherleaf...I am glad you think so...I am trying to bring more colorful images to the story without losing the pace of the dialog...tough balance with so many characters and transitioning across so many settings! Chrys and Sam are each in their own way working to bring Frodo back, to shore him up and prepare him for his "next step"...I hope that the memories and visits by Chrys "tug" at Frodo and make him want to live...you'll soon see that Frodo is remembering another reason he has to live...the strongest one of all perhaps...so you will soon

( not this chapter...here I just plant the seed) see Frodo start to make his way back...there's tons more conflict ahead and a "surprise" ending in store for those of you who've been so loyal and "stuck with it"...even when the dialog dragged and the ailments seemed endless...bless you for reviewing so regularly...it really is appreciated!

Moonlightshadow...Yes, now Sam and Aragorn have inner questions and angst...you'll see that in this chapter Sam is getting worn down and Aragorn finally becomes more decisive! The three hobbits will be "broken" only for a brief change of scene...and to make Sam's conflict more poignant...and yes, our swarthy and black hearted bad guy is back!

Now...back to the story...

The scout pulled back quickly and efficiently on his mounts reins, the horse, broken to the whim of men responded in a heartbeat and with a slight puff of dust about his hooves, stopped. Hanlon looked with a growing roil of queasy despair that put his stomach on edge, at the scene of death and destruction before him. The small river side encampment was trampled with the signs of many assailants, tents burnt down, supplies scattered, belongings ransacked and death. Everywhere the sight and smell of death met Hanlon's senses and he found himself unconsciously reaching to cover his face to block the wave of rancid aromas that wafted towards him with the slight shift in the evening breeze. The fact that he knew none of the men before him gave Hanlon no comfort, for while he did not recognize any of these twisted and mangled bodies as names or persons of import, he knew the sight of such slaughter to bring senseless pain and to incite a desire to bring a savage revenge upon the perpetrators of such violence.

The Scout sighed heavily and pursed his lips at the thought of the tasks that lay before him. The Gondorian soldier knew the next hours would be grisly indeed, for in the half day since he'd first come to view the encampment and reported it's secrets to Lord Faramir, the heat of the sun and the carrion beast had begun their tasks. As he looked over the stiffened and swollen bodies he thought of the waste, in his mind he saw there would be no songs sung, no festivals or great parades of marchers to celebrate this noble deed, none would hear of the heros fallen this day, no glory would be had from this slaughter and he sighed heavily as he imagined the pain these soldiers left behind in the form of lonely wives, bereft children and bitter parents.

Almost as if his minds' images were a vision beheld by others, a voice beside him said

" their deaths would seem to count for little Hanlon..." the new steward of Gondor said quietly, his deep grey eyes sweeping the scene of destruction before them "but we shall be sure that their deaths do not count for naught." Faramir's voice, which had been as hard and tempered with steel as his sight, suddenly gentled with his next words as a faraway look fell upon his face " a certain gentlehobbit in my acquaintance would never forgive himself if he were to learn of the this, he would not deem himself worthy of such sacrifices." Faramir turned from his viewing of the carnage to look Hanlon full in the face " Frodo must not learn of this Hanlon, these deaths shall fuel our purpose, not bring self loathing and more guilt to our ringbearer, who has sacrificed much of himself already for the good of man." Hanlon was struck by the pain and self recrimination that seemed to cross his often stern commander's face. The soldier vowed then, within his heart, to do all that this noble and sensitive steward asked of him and he felt his heart swell with pride that he was among those chosen to help in this special quest.

The moment of reflective viewing lasted an almost awkward length of time, the distant cry of birds and soft lapping of water against nearby rocks sounds which swelled to fill the void left in the distance between word and thought until finally Hanlon found himself speaking to break the growing pain filled silence of the Steward's gaze. "I shall see to clearing the site my Lord" Hanlon said respectfully. Faramir, with one last moment of memory and a silent and fervent wish for a successful resolution to their duties, replied "and I shall assist you in this honor".As they swung down from their mounts, Faramir noted the distant sound of hoofbeats that signaled the coming of the remainder of their guard "we haven't much time" the steward said using his eyes to gesture toward the approaching troop..."let us begin our task and bring these men the dignity they have earned, the others will soon join us in this endeavor" he said with a solemn nod to the array of bodies. Hanlon, with a slowly swelling lump of pride preventing him from speaking, nodded as he took his axe from the saddle and began to cut the kindling needed for the funeral pyre of his fallen comrades.

The distant echo of voice ricocheted between the canyon walls. Voices risen in merry tunes

and punctuated by a variety of giggles and laughter, the swell of voices gathering in a round of song floated with the dust above the cart's sturdy wheels.

Away we go, away we go

If there be heat or there be cold

Where we end up who shall know?

Away we go...away we go...

The thin a high pitched voices of the orphan children were pitted against the deep and often off key notes of their dwarven driver, the sound carried through out the distances of the steep walled heights of the canyon. Galen laughed and threw up his hands in defeat "cease this caterwauling master dwarf...I give in...we shall stop as soon as a spot presents itself" he laughed and shouted loudly to be heard above the cacophony of sound now fading to distant echoes. Gimli snorted his assent " it 'tis about time you listened to reason my man friend" he said with a smirk as he tilted his head to eye the guard upon his horse beside the cart. Galen shook his head and replied with a broad grin on his lips and mirth in his words "reason is it then? This is how the dwarves bend the will of others? They 'sing' them into submission!" Gimli turned to the lad beside him on the wagon seat and cocked his head knowingly "the ways of dwarves are indeed fraught with peril young master, eh?"

The booming laugh of the dwarf, the grin and easy banter of Galen all gave Kylos a feeling of safety and comfort, a feeling of near contentment. It felt strange he thought to be able to smile and laugh and sing...just being out from under the crushing weight of responsibility that had lay upon him since the death of his parents so many months ago brought a dim glow of hope to weary heart and spirit. The war wounds of this lad ran deep, and Kylos closed his eyes but a moment to picture the warmth of home, the love of family...and he saw instead images of suffering and despair as moments from his last torturous weeks flashed before him. He saw the tear stained face of a sobbing child, fear and nameless terror reflecting in dark eyes and the fever induced dreams of a frail hobbit. In the flash of a heartbeat he realized that what came to him as memory were visions of what could be happening now, for these images were not of familiar times or places, and he opened his eyes with a start as he tried to convince himself that perhaps he'd just been caught in the dreams of a brief nap. Looking about him, twisting around to see all in his party, he knew he'd not dreamed, the orphans still sang their same song, the dwarf and the man still engaged in their easy banter...no, this was no dream and the realization of this 'gift' he'd been given caused a shiver to raise the hair upon the back of his neck..."no dream" he whispered in fear. He sat quiet in his new found fear, not wanting to take the moments of peace and good will from the children he'd grown to feel so responsible for, although in his heart he sensed that those he loved were not yet as safe as he.

The wagon full of orphans, the cart of oft fear filled and passive youngsters was transformed as the fingers of hope, weaving their way like gossamer threads through the fabric of their torn lives, began to take root. Galen, his eyes looking ever vigilantly to the trail before them turned to the dwarven driver and said "we shall break for rest and food as we reach the mouth of the canyon, Your elf friend told me we shall reach the end of the canyon and turn to travel north west along the river way until we meet up with the second boat and the King's men upon her." The man paused and spoke quietly so that none but the stocky dwarf could hear as the children began in upon another song "with any luck we shall meet with the King and Frodo as well...within a day, two at the most the King's plan was to be at the berth of the second ship" Galen paused in his commentary and grinned to Gimli "unless there is a reason your elf friend would not lead you true master dwarf?" Gimli sputtered but a moment as he realized that Galen sought to bait him with his words."I shall show you true then master Galen, you'll not need to worry of the truth of elf kind...for hard won though a friendship with their kind shall be, once made, 'tis never put asunder...so count always upon the steadfastness of dwarves and the loyalty of elf kind!". Galen smiled at the stalwart dwarf's defense of his unusual alliance, but said nothing more as he contemplated a moment the unusual paths he had tread of late and the strange bonds of fellowship he'd been privileged to observe and to assist. Man, dwarf, halfling and elf, common workers and those of noble descent, warriors and scholars, men of fearsome strength who were brought low by the care they felt for others, small and seemingly frail bodies with the strength and fortitude of great warriors. Galen stole a look to the lad beside Gimli and then back to the wagon full of children, 'the children are the strangest piece of all in this new picture of middle earth' he found himself thinking 'what path lies before them?'. The lone wagon and rider continued through the heat of the mid day, their progress marked by bursts of songs and the telling of tales as they slowly made their way towards the river.

Waves of shimmering heat danced before Rosetta's eyes as she stood still a moment to catch her breath from the exertion of their hike upon the ridge. The heat of the day and her occasional tear served to cause runnels of salty liquid to run slowly down her face. She lifted her bound hands and with some small gesture that spoke of her irritation attempted yet again to clear the liquid from her damp forehead and tearstained cheeks. The dark kerchief, one of her Ada Frodo's old handkerchiefs which had been tied about her curls to tame her wayward locks, had long since fallen to it's position as a dampened addition to the collar of her frock. She, at the urging of her captor forced herself to move and stumbled a little as she lifted her weary feet one after the other in a ceaseless torture of motion. She sniffled loudly as a sudden memory of a dark haired story teller, the warmth of a stolen moment of song and the security of a night's sleep wrapped tucked into his small chest came to her and she wondered where he was and if he was as tired as she was. She tried to recall the words of one of his stories, attempting to take the misery of her sore feet from her mind by filling her thoughts with the deeds of others. As she trudged along, almost satisfied that she could recall the tale of the beginning days of the Numenoreans, she heard a cry.

Garth had fallen in his tracks and was being helped none to gently to his feet by the roaming hands of two of the corsair guards. Rosetta watched, too terrified to call out as the guards pulled the boy against first one and then shoved him to the arms of the other. Garth, his dark eyes wide with terror could only stutter "no...no, no...please...no...don't" as the two guards laughed at their foul game and allowed their meaty hands to hold the boy in an intimate and overly close fashion. The shaken lass could only feel more tears dribble down her cheeks as she tried to find the strength to cry out at the boy's rough handling, but she felt not courage alone on that ridge and her lips trembled as she found herself speaking to her missing friend "Where are you Ada Frodo? Have you forgotten your Princess? The bad men are here...I need your help, your stories, your hope..." as Rosetta looked upon the scene of abuse before her she could only whisper "help me Sir Frodo."

Before Rosetta could work up enough courage to help her friend she heard the voice of the old healer "no then, stop it, can't ye see that the poor mite is all but terrified of you great brutes...now stop it I tell you." As he spoke Terren moved closer and closer to where the lad was being tossed between the two men, finally managing to come between them Terren knelt down and clumsily clasped his bound but shaking arms about the terrified lad..."there now Garth...settle child" he whispered. The two men, angered at the loss of their sport quickly moved in on Terren and with one deft toss threw the cowering Garth out of the way and fell to beating the old man with fist and feet. Rosetta cried out in alarm and tried to run forward, only to find her waist ensnared in the grip of her guard who laughed as he hoisted her kicking and screaming in the air to keep her from his mates sport.

A coldly sharp voice broke through the sounds of landed blows and snorted laughs "cease this immediately" Keldor barked "or the next of you to raise a hand shall do so against me". The snarling men immediately backed down and Rosetta's guard placed her upon the ground with a not so gentle 'thump'. Her feet were moving as she came in contact once more with the ground and she ran to where Terren lay huddled on his side, body curled into a ball to protect his head and stomach from the vicious thrashing. Rosetta flung herself upon the moaning old man and did her best to wrap herself about him as she cried "Terren, Terren...are you hurt?". The old man, shaken from his beating did his best to reassure the little girl and patted her hand "sh, sh child...I shall be just fine, I am not badly hurt...now help me up." Rosetta could only cry and kiss the dirty grey and red tinged spot upon Terren's head that had been laid open with a well aimed kick.

The slender lad with the dark curls and deep brown eyes who'd been the original target of their sport picked himself up and came to stand near the huddled figures upon the ground. His eyes flashed with anger as he tilted his head to look up to the leader of the Corsairs "children and old men?" he questioned, his voice soft and scared at first, hesitant in it's task but gaining strength and conviction as it continued "children and old men you choose to humiliate and fill with fear...what manner of men are you to find your bravery at the expense of children and old men?"

Garth broke from his commentary to reach down and pull a trembling Rosetta off of the healer and then continued "what could be of such import that you find the need to torture us so?" he asked, his words spoken from the heart did nothing to change the stance of the man before him who had none. Keldor stared coldly at the strangely brave child before him as Garth began to take a step back in fear of what new torment his harsh words might bring upon him.

The Corsair captain, black eyes cold and penetrating took a step forward and reached down to grip Garth's chin and yank it up so that they were staring straight to the depth of each others eyes "Revenge " Keldor growled. "We will have our revenge upon your so called 'King' of Gondor" he sneered in contempt of those words upon his lips and he pulled Garth even closer as the lad attempted to push back from the broad chest of the ruffian, his bound hands not making the slightest impression on the smooth muscled expanse of skin. Terren lay still huddled upon the ground and the princess inched closer to him as she watched the interaction between the failing courage of her friend and the mounting anger of the corsair. Keldor's lips were mere inches from Garth's as he said, his voice laced with the venom of pure hatred "we shall retrieve that which is ours...at any cost and with mercy towards none...as his army of the dead showed no mercy". Garth felt a shudder of terror race through him as Keldors rank odors and the specter of his crushing strength brought back wave upon wave of images. "And if I do not retrieve all that is mine, then I shall take.. what... is... not" the words slithered sickening sweet from the swarthy face of the Corsair and Garth felt his world darken to a tiny tunnel of light and suddenly he was cast aside like a limp doll, his body falling with little noise to the leafy detritus of the ground.

Pain washed over him, unrelenting pain which came in waves and built to their crushing apex in the general area of his foot, but waves which crashed upon him in regular intervals and sapped the strength of his entire mind and body. His eyes were tightly closed and he tightened his hands to fists as he tensed his body in preparation for the next round, slowly tightening and relaxing his muscles in an attempt to wrest control from the insidious presence of this swirling pain. 'I...must...not...give...in' he found the words in the deepest recesses of his mind and he added the use of such thoughts to the tightening of his muscles as slowly he built a wall and stocked his arsenal against that which sought to take him. He found himself seeking to add more to his weapon of words and slowly his mind began to make motion, to come from hiding and to seek through the corners of his memories for images that he could hold to. A new wave was building, his muscles tensed, his eyes watered and he heard himself moan...but still he sought for the sustenance of words and image to take him through his pain. A cloudy, hazy space opened before him...a distant voice sang...words of love, of hope, of journeys to be taken...The words gave way to a face and the beauty of fire spun into gold was before him as the fine and delicate features of a hobbit lass with hair a halo of amber seemed to float towards him.

"Chrys" he moaned..."my love.." he mumbled, his voice barely discernable against the background of harsh ragged breaths and heart wrenching moans "Chrys" he moaned through lips chapped and split, a small trickle of blood seeping from one corner. Sam reached to sooth his master, with word and the care of gentle caresses, he wiped the blood from Frodo's lips and changed the fever cloth upon his brow. The exhausted Hobbit reached to tuck the blankets more firmly about the weakly thrashing body beside him and found his hand caught in the large calloused grip of Strider "Here Sam, let me, you shall do Frodo no good if you fall ill from exhaustion, let me tend him while you sleep," Sam, too tired and too saddened to protest, allowed Strider to help him up and on shaky legs was led to his blankets. He looked mournfully to where Frodo lay just a few feet away and as he lowered himself to his sleeping roll and he looked, eyes reflecting the agony of his heart, to the deep compassion of his King. "Help 'em Strider...help him from his pain...I am not strong enough to see his pain, and with Merry and Pippin gone off with Legolas ta find Faramir...I can not just sit by as all that is good in this world slowly dies before me" Sam was too tired, too drained to even cry and his last words as he slowly closed his eyes to sleep rent a hole in his heart " you love him too Aragorn...why do you let him suffer?". Aragorn knelt a moment beside the softly snoring Gardener, he reached down to brush a curl from Sam's face and he had the grace to allow a tear fall and softly land amid the disarray of gold curls "because I love him too Sam..."

Frodo's images shifted as the waves receded once more. He saw lines of weary children, dirt encrusted faces, hands blackened from their toil and the sudden flash of yellow as a small child darted past. He breathed raggedly as he felt the waves build again, muscles tensing he fought to return to his images and he saw the golden child, rosebud lips, rounded cheeks and deep blue eyes as they looked to him and asked "where are you Ada?" The images wavered and shifted and suddenly the children were gone...all but the golden one, she stood with feet firmly planted, wind tousling her curls as the ground she stood upon dipped down and slowly rose up again. Her lips were moving, she seemed to be shouting but he could not make out the words...and he felt himself growing anxious as he could see the fear steadily growing in her eyes.

A sudden shock of cold water upon him made him gasp and he shook his head from side to side seeking to reconnect to his fading vision of the golden child...he thrashed back and forth violently now and felt hands hold him down as one last image flashed before him. He watched, straining through his fear to breathe, as the girl, eyes streaming with tears fought against the hands of another who sought to subdue her. She was roughly yanked upwards and in a heartbeat he understood why the ground had moved so beneath her, the waters beside the ship, frothing with their wind tipped whitecaps, framed the terror in her eyes and the vision faded with the words 'no, please..no...help me Ada Frodo..no..." and he struggled wildly to sit up, hands grabbing at any purchase to bring him from his pain and to stop the pain of another and he, eyes opened wide in terror gasped "no...not the children" before one last wave tightened it's grip upon him and pulled him under. His body shook to come free of the waves death grip upon him as he tensed and tightened some muscles and released others in a cycle of convulsive response to his fever that caused all in the camp to come to his aid.

Aragorn had felt the mounting fever and had brought buckets of cool water from the river, at first gently washing the fevered face, then pouring water upon the dark curls hoping to bring down the fever. As the convulsions set in Aragorn recognized that he'd been too late and he called to Qurag to help as they struggled to bring the convulsing hobbit to the bank of the cold Anduin. "Hold him Qurag" Aragorn shouted as he picked up the blankets and gestured that the Orc should follow to the riverside. Qurag, without a moments hesitation plunged into the icy river water, to be followed by the Ranger King and together they kept the shaking hobbit from going under as his body was thrust first on way, then another. Aragorn struggled madly to get a thick leather strap between Frodo's frothing lips and with a quick decisive motion grabbed the hobbits dark curls in one hand, jerked the head back and placed the strap upon his bleeding tongue. Sam, who'd been awakened by the commotion leapt into action and soon had the fire built up with blankets warming by the side, new bandages laid out and several pans of water heating.

Qurag felt the slight body in his arms begin to slowly cease it's cycle of tensing muscles and shaking limbs as Frodo's body temperature began to cool at last. Aragorn, in the water himself up to his waist splashed about checking limbs to see that no more damage had been caused. He stopped at last by Qurags shoulder and leaned over to run his hand through Frodo's hair, lift his eyelids to check for pupil response and noted his gradually slowing pulse. He observed a small tremor in the hobbit's head and a slackening of his lips and he motioned to Qurag to tilt the slight body forward and stepped back as Frodo vomited. The retching continued for a few moments as the throughly spent hobbit voided both bowel and bladder as well to rid himself of his built up toxins. Aragorn sighed as he watched the flowing water take away the evidence of Frodo's illness "well, luck is with us tonight it would seem Qurag...at least we shall not have to clean him" he tried to make light and to ease the tension felt by all, but a felt a tear instead come to his eyes and his legs grow suddenly weak.

Qurag saw the weakening in the King and slowly made his way to shallower water where he gestured for Aragorn to sit on a nearby rock. He himself squatted in the water, cradling the now limp body in his arms, carefully cupping his hands and splashing vomit from Frodos lips and excrement from about his legs. Sam silently brought a cake of soap from his pack and splashed into the water to lift the oversized shirt from Frodo and begin to give him a thorough washing. Aragorn, still sitting upon the rock watched the care and devotion shown the seemingly dead hobbit as Sam and Qurag silently went about the task of gently washing, legs, back, arms and lastly head and hair. The King made count of the many hurts, tallied up all the reasons Frodo had to leave this world and made a decision.

"Bring him to the fire, we will dry him, redress his wounds...let him regain some warmth and then we will leave this site." The Kings words, though softly spoken, were not to be taken lightly. Sam started to protest but Aragorn cut him off "Sam he is in need of the children, he..he is in some way a part of them as they are in need of him...I, I can't explain how I know this...but he must see Rosetta before the end." Sam shook his head " He canna travel in his weakened state Aragorn...the trip will be the end of him." Qurag nodded, the fierce Orc looked down at the slight form in his arms with a look of admiration in his eyes, he too was beginning to see what the King had begun to understand " Ringbearer lives not for self...he lives for those in need"the muscled Orc said gruffly, yet with a heartfelt understanding. Aragorn stared a moment at the Orc squatting in the water and nodded slowly "yes Qurag, Frodo will find his life through others now..."


	45. chapter 45: resonating

Faces of War: Chapter 45….Resonating

Disclaimer: I sing the praises of JRR Tolkein, I do not endeavor to earn anything but

many late night hours of mind numbing struggle from my attempts to wrest a story from his brilliant characters….

Thanks to any and all for your patience…..many computer ailments were laid to rest in my attempt to continue this story….and a pox upon those villains who deem it necessary to spend their late nights getting their jollies from spreading their filthy viruses to the computers of innocents around the world!

Althea…thanks for the kind words….hope you'll enjoy what's coming!

Moonlightshadow….Thanks for the praise…I do believe that there can be kindness lurking the hearts of some the world may assign all the virtues of evil….but they must be given the room needed to show it! You will find that there are many ways to live a life…as out diminutive hero is finding…..

BreallyraLeatherleaf….sorry this is sooooo overdue….you can see from my previous comments that my frustration with the vandals of the internet is reaching an all new high…or is it low? Anyway…..hang in here a bit longer….Frodo is regaining some badly needed lost ground!

Coolmaurauders….love the screen name….very "ruffian to think of it…your tone is somewhat brusque as well….you could be the inspiration for some new and very verbal "evil doers"…so watch yourself! Glad you like the story….sorry for the delay….hang in please and see this to it's conclusion….you'll not have to wait so long next time!

Lovethosehobbits….I must say…that I have changes in the future for our guy….but as for the 'death is just another path' thing…well…it's a path I am not anxious for Frodo to take anytime soon…so rest easy….but recognize that his life is forever changed…

Endymion2….ah yes, insight…there is a lot of that going around…hope this next chapter explains some of it's causes for you…..yes, I do believe that fear and stress can heighten ones "sensibilities"….but I also believe that Frodo has some friends in pretty high places….as for ending this story….I keep finding other paths the characters must follow….I am afraid that it is like traveling the paths in Fangorn Forest….ever changing…so keep with it a while longer yet….and yes, I got your e-mail….shame on me for being such a poor example of the uses of sentence structure I foist upon my own students….but it is after all written for fans with a passion for hobbits….not for grammarians….I shall try not to "do more harm" ….but I fear this entry has some absolutely horrific examples of meandering sentences…..forgive me!

The soft echo of lightly shod feet, feet moving with little regard for discovery, could be heard resonating upon the marble inlaid floors. Occasionally the steps would falter, shift their pattern to reflect the resumption of speed as the body bourn by the stealthy feet would pause to look in doors or down corridors long since emptied of movement.

The hallways seemed to dance in welcome as the lengthening shadows of late afternoon flickered and writhed upon the shiny marble pathways, dappled sunlight filtered in amidst the sheer drapes and valance crowned windows lining its elegant byways.

The tall and darkly clad figure did not take his eyes from the map upon which his eyes were fixed as he heard a grunt of exasperated discovery behind him. He allowed himself the luxury of a slightly raised brow and the twitch of one corner of his lip as he awaited the onslaught of words he'd long known was coming. He readied himself for the noise of human speech, girding his solitude buffered senses for the barrage of words he knew would soon be his. He felt instead a firm grip upon his green velvet cloak and when no words came, turned about to face the intruder who had broken into his silent domain of thought and deed.

Gandalf's eyes were fixed not upon Elrond, but upon the map which was spread upon the table before him. His bright blue eyes darkened as they followed the small pins laid out like tiny warriors stretched in a flowing arc from Minas Tirith to distant points along the Anduin. "So you know of their whereabouts" the Wizard said, his voice sounding harsh, yet somehow strangely welcome to the elven ears before him. "Yes, Estel has been tireless in his efforts to reach me" the elf paused to look once more to the map and continued wryly "and also was successful in reaching you I see."

The Wizard shook his head grimly "it was not Estel my friend, it is the thoughts of Frodo that were able to penetrate my resistance…his fea grows stronger even as his body weakens." Elrond nodded slowly, his brow creased in a frown as a cloud of dark memory descended upon him. He could see once more the hours of pain and struggle endured by the small hobbit spirit, the fevers that raged, the blood that had flowed, the horrors his mind had endured. Through it all, the dark days after his rescue from the ford of Bruinin, his spirit had grown stronger. He remembered how astonished he'd been at the strength, tenacity and spirit of the dying hobbit. He'd known then that Gandalf's small friend, the one the wizard had grown to love as none other in middle earth, was doomed to be forever haunted by his remaining days in the company of men.

Elrond turned suddenly and walked from the map half dozen steps to where the open window balcony looked out upon the raging falls below. His thoughts wandered once more, a flash of gold touched fire and a laugh like the tinkling of bells wove through his memories and his face softened in response. The Wizard examined the map briefly then looked up to see the expression upon the stern elf's face, surprised by the flash of emotion, he waited. The elf lord stood lost in his pleasant thoughts a moment more, then having made up his mind, gestured that Gandalf should join him.

With his head bowed once quickly in assent, the Wizard strode purposely to the balcony to join his friend. Elrond waved his velvet draped arm expansively to the beauty of the falls below "She loved this view" he smiled with a quick quirk of his lip "she swore it to be a close second to the view she had of the Shire from Windly bluff." Gandalf waited for the elf to continue, not certain where the seeming mixed emotions of his long time friend were leading, but knowing he needed to be the strength this time.

Elrond shook his head "She was simply impossible, her opinions too strong, her laughter too loud, her songs too filled with love…she was all that we elves are not ". He paused again, seeming to gather himself to speak his hidden pain "and yet, she knew me like none other, it seemed at times as if my darling Celebrain had come to me in the body of a small, red haired sprite for she knew me in the open and honest way of one who fears that each day would be her last…and I tell myself that the important thing is only that she lived….she lived to share her love of life with others, she shared her love and her spirit with our indomitable young ringbearer…to the betterment of all." Elrond sighed, his shoulders rising with his nearly hopeful inhalation, then falling, curling in upon himself with the escape of his strength sustaining air. "When you brought her to me Gandalf, I saw once more all that I could not do to save the mother of my children, and I was angered. I was consumed by my hatred of the Valar that would allow such evil, such lust to be allowed to roam unchecked upon these shores". Elrond's face hardened, sculpted marble which had faced the tumult of the ages was undone by the fate of one small hobbit lass. The Wizard frowned and shook his head, not understanding the direction of the elf lord's thoughts, he replied with forced and steady calmness, attempting to sooth the angst of his friend's memories "yes, she lived and we all mourn her passing, but tell me, what import does this news bear during such times?"

Elrond leaned forward to grip the silent stone balcony, the testimony of his words' solidity "as she lay before me, her spirit was unbroken even as her life fabric came undone, thread by thread drifting from her. She sought to bring me comfort, to help me see that the value of her life would live on after she was gone." Gandalf watched, riveted by the specter of such raw pain engraving itself upon the countenance of the elf lord. Elrond's voice continued along it's gentle course of memory "she assured me that she would live on through the promise of Frodo's future…Frodo was her hope, and I knew what the fates had in store for him, as we both knew." Elrond sighed deeply, squeezed his eyes tight against the memory of his rage he said "I offered up myself, I railed against the powers of the Valar and offered my place with my own beloved…there will be no ship for me Gandalf…I shall see the fates of Middle Earth played out."

Gandalf interrupted "You are certain of this? You have been told of their choice?" The Wizard asked. Elrond continued, "I put her on board myself…I know that she lives still Gandalf, Chrys lives on as the children of iluvitar were promised, and she is the key that the Valar hold to in their quest to keep their vow to Frodo." The Wizard narrowed his eyes and lifted one brow in query, his stern visage fixed unwavering to the face of his long time friend "the Valar spoke not of this to me" he said tersely. Elrond nodded slowly "no, they have seen that your sights are at times too keenly fixed upon the ringbearer, they feared that your judgment may be colored by your love of him…no Gandalf, only this once my friend did the Valar choose me as the keeper of their wishes."

The stately leader of Rivendells' elven home sighed as he smiled sadly." I do not need life eternal, if I know that the two spirits I love most have a life free of pain."

The white robed wizard stepped away from Elrond, his hands clasped behind his back he strode away from the window, his hands clenched tensely as he sighed heavily and threw his head back to gaze at the murals painted upon the library ceiling. Elrond waited for the silent pain to pass, Gandalf, hands now clenched in fists at his side spun about, his words a fiery missile. "They will keep their vow then?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his shaking voice. Elrond nodded silently and watched as the tension, long held, was released from his friend's upright stance. Gandalf suddenly looked old, very old and tired and Elrond motioned that he should sit upon one of the brocaded benches that lined the windows.

"Tell me of their words Elrond" Gandalf pleaded. Elrond, his long face drawn into a small smile nodded "yes, they will keep their vow, they have promised to see Frodo and the other ringbearers safe to Tol Eressa…they keep safe passage for them at the grey havens….but they have long feared that Frodo's spirit, so wounded from the evil of the ring, would not stand the strain of this last test…they need him to have a light to look to."

Gandalf smiled as he thought of the essence of Chrys, the fight and spirit, the light of love that colored all she did….and he understood. "She waits for him; she waits for him to make the right choice that they may have the life they have dreamed of…." Elrond smiled as he continued "She waits for him because she has faith….she trusts that his hope will carry him onward….as her hope allowed her to endure the pain of her injuries…." The Elf lord smiled fondly as he remembered her tenacious spirit and endless capacity for love…"she will be his salvation Gandalf….she would allow nothing less."

The smile that had graced the wizard's furrowed brow but moments before faded as he was overwhelmed by a deep feeling of dread and emptiness that tugged at his heart. "He may not hold to his hope long enough to see the light that Chrys can cast for him" Gandalf paused, his eyes long filled with the wisdom of the ages suddenly reflecting the agony of his present fear "I fear we are losing him Elrond, his spirit fades from me".

Aragorn knelt by the fire, he idly fed another piece of kindling to the flames and poked the embers on the periphery of the fire's heart, seeking to bring life and heat to the outermost portions of the campfire. He stopped his mindless poking a moment, realizing with some detachment how like this fire the life of his friend had become. 'With what can I kindle your flame Frodo'? he asked himself. He finished adjusting the intensity of the fire, moved the ever ready pot of water too it's preferred spot near the center of the fire and sat back away from the intense heat of the fire. He drew his pipe from one of his many pouches and taking the glowing end of the fagot he'd just used to stir up the flames, held it to the bowl of his pipe and drew in a deep breath. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure of the moment, and reviewed once more his plan for the morning.

'We will travel to the site of the second ship; with Frodo bundled and tucked into the arms of Sam they may share the one packhorse.' The ranger had a twinge of discomfort with the one aspect of his plan he could not reconcile to his satisfaction, Mendal, the one prisoner from Frodo's captivity with Anborn would be more difficult to tend to on foot, more dangerous and more of a liability. 'Can't be helped…Durzack shall be given charge of him and I've faith that he will go a long way to do his master's bidding' he thought to himself. He was restless; he looked to the banks of the river. Qurag sat, squat upon a boulder that jutted into the river, the dark skin of the orc blended in with the dark ripples of the water. As the full moon danced among the clouds it seemed as if the occasional flash of white from the Orcs eyes were all that spoke of the presence of the hunter turned sentinel. Aragorn felt safe, he knew the Orc's skills as warrior were probably second to few 'I should rest' he thought, but instead he found himself walking purposely to where the hobbits lie.

He had dug a hollow between the roots of another tree, this one big enough to accommodate the press of two hobbit bodies curled together. Sam lay with his arms wrapped tightly about Frodo, golden hair entwined with the lank and too long curls of his master and friend. The King smiled grimily at the sight before him, Sam had for many days resisted his desire to show such affection for his ailing master. It was the events of the afternoon, the convulsive climax of Frodo's fever that had pushed Sam past the point of caring what others might think. As Frodo's body had finally stilled, as Sam had tended once more to hurts which seem insurmountable, as they had worked to strip, bathe and dry the chilled frail body, none had dared to speak. So deeply had they been touched by the violence and brutality of the ringbearer's latest trial, they had all felt that they were being given these last moments to say their goodbyes, for there seemed no chance that any could live long after such a thorough purging.

Then it had happened, a weak moan and eyes made larger and bluer than ever from weeks of deprivation had opened, lips chapped and abused had worked to utter words none had expected and his voice, weak and raspy from lack of use came "I'm sorry Sam, my Sam, I do not mean to cause you such worry…". Sam had gripped Frodo's hand so tightly that the ringbearer had gasped, causing Sam to cry and blubber his own apology. Before Frodo's eyes had closed again, he had looked with such love to his hobbit companion that Aragorn felt a lump swell in his throat, and words difficult to find as he'd watched, finding his own eyes filling with tears as Frodo sought to comfort Sam with feeble pats from weakened hands even as eyes sought to connect with the King. "Find her" he had watched the chapped lips mouth "she is in need" were the words he thought he'd seen formed upon those blue tinged lips. Then Frodo had fallen asleep again, a sleep guided with the comfort of arms that wanted only the chance to bring good things to one who asked so little for himself. "Remarkable creatures Gandalf once said" Aragorn whispered to no one " he was not honest with me…for you are so much more than that my friends"

He paused, stooping to lay a hand upon gold curls and darkened locks "you are the embodiment of all that is honest and genuine in this world…and I will not lose that, I will not allow your spirit to be lost my friends, no matter the cost" he vowed. He looked to the fringes of the horizon where the red and deep purple fingers of the impending sunrise were creeping upwards. It would be morning soon. With a last look at his slumbering friends he set to checking the binds upon a gagged Mendal, patted a wide awake Durzack in greeting upon his shoulder and checked once more his pack, as he waited for the morning.

The crackle from the fire as one of the men poked the embers gave way to a sudden 'pop' and Rosetta opened one eye sleepily to watch the three men conversing about the lightly smoking fire. She shifted ever so slightly; the coldness of the ground was buffered little by the cloak that Terren had forced about her. She, both eyes now cracked open snuck a peak to the tree behind the guards where Garth and Terren slept. They were bound about the waist, and both had collapsed upon the other in their fatigue. Rosetta envied them their togetherness however much she did not want to share their space. She wondered how close the morning was, for she was hungry and knew that the morning meal tended to be the one of most substance. Her eyes welled with tears as she felt the discomfort of her rumbling empty belly and she forced her mind to give up its thoughts about food, for she knew she'd be all the hungrier for it. 'Sir Frodo, I'm hungry, I'm cold…." She fought to keep her sniffles quiet "I'm lonely….tell me a story in my mind, help me remember you" she pleaded wishing that she could travel the time and space needed to be at her friends side once more.

As she shifted once more, trying to find a spot of greater comfort, she tried to tell herself one of the tales she loved so well, she clenched her eyes closed and tried her hardest to see Frodo's face, to hear the soft cadence of his speech. She heard instead the words of the guards and realized that they'd been joined by Keldor. Rosetta gave up her search for a story and listened instead to the tale she'd landed in.

"Captain….Darem reports that the caravan has been spotted" one of the guards reported to Keldor. The swarthy face of the dark leader of their tormentors looked even uglier and more frightening in the flickering shadows cast by the fire. Rosetta, her eyes shut tight pretended to be sleeping as she felt Keldors gaze penetrate the darkness and seek her out. As if he knew her to be listening he laughed harshly "Well, they must be lost if they have not yet found the King…perhaps they need our guidance eh Mattik?" Keldor laughed. Mattik laughed in answer and added, "I'm certain that the dwarf will find our 'hospitality' unique." Keldor's laughter stopped abruptly "Who else leads the children?" he asked brusquely. Mattik sneered, "there is a man…one who used to be a soldier of Gondor….but from his dress spent time with Anborn…he bears the weaponry of the band of brigands". Keldor's dark eyes narrowed and he stared for long moments to the depths of the fire before replying. "I want the man, alone….perhaps he may be persuaded to change his allegiance, once more that is…" The swarthy captain reached to stroke the oily hair of his braided beard. He turned from the fire and looked right at a slightly trembling blond haired child and beckoned that Mattik should bring her to him.

Rosetta, who'd been lying still as she was able, opened her eyes reflexively when she felt her self grabbed by the upper arms and dragged to her feet, she automatically began to struggle. Mattik, in no mood to incur the wraith of his leader, let lose one hand from her arm and tangled it in her curls. She bit back a cry, not wanting to awaken Terren, not wanting to cause more worries to the man who was more than a healer to her. She looked deep within herself, remembering all that Frodo had tried to teach her about fear and hatred. As she was tossed carelessly to the feet of the Corsair Captain, she had nearly mastered her fear and was able to look the dark ruffian in the eye as he knelt by her side.

"You will buy me much my little princess" Keldor whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine "you will bring our former renegade brother back into line….or your friends will suffer my displeasure" he hissed looking to the figures tied to the near tree. Rosetta's stare, deep blue to darkest black, did not waiver as she whispered "I will not spread your evil….I will not bring dishonor to those I love" trying her hardest to say what she felt her Sir Frodo would. Keldor, his teeth, suddenly revealed in a broad smile, showing brightly against his darkened skin, smiled as he promised "we will see my little warrior, we will see".


	46. Chapter 46

Faces of War: Chapter 46

Accepting

Disclaimer: The characters and settings of this story are not of my own making….this credit goes to a wondrous storyteller….long live JRR Tolkein through story and deed….

Many apologies to all for the lateness of this entry….I bless those that have followed the story and caution you that I have made changes to the ending….have sought to give our ring bearer a different purpose in his future….this is the reason this story was so delayed…..enjoy!

Synopsis….due to the length of time between this and previous entries…..

Frodo, after being tormented by ruffians in his attempts to help a band of kidnapped orphans, is paired with two Orcs who help him to escape the work camp with his 'princess' Rosetta. The Princess falls ill and is separated from Frodo while being brought to healing. The Orphaned train or group of children set free from the work camp travel with Gimli and Galen(friendly guard from work camp) towards the second ship that Aragorn stocked with gold and provisions at the request of the ruffians who had kidnapped Frodo and the orphans. Sam, Aragorn and Qurag(the strangely noble Orc prisoner who helped Frodo and Rosetta escape) care for Frodo as he sickens from his abusive treatment at the hands of the ruffians. Elrond and Gandalf have met and discussed the fact that Frodo will be allowed to travel to the shores of Tol Eressa to be reunited with Chyrs ( Frodo's former love).

Many thanks to those of you reviewing…Julia Baggins. WVUchick, Moonlightshadows, love those hobbits, Althea, Breallyaleatherleaf, cool mauraders….blessings upon you all…may the the lights of middle earth always light your way….I will respnd to individual comments in the future….I am just now trying to submit a chapter…so be patient and thanks for keeping abreast of the situation!

Aragorn looked at the leather strap positioned in his hands, he admired the heft and feel, the smooth texture and malleable form of the fastenings his hands had worked hundreds of times. His months as King had given him a new found appreciation for the simple tasks given him. The notion that all things should be as easy to fix as the baggage under his weather worn hands could not help but play through his mind. He finished tying down the pouches and bags which held his healers supplies and turned to look about the members of his encampment.

Mendal was struggling against the firm grasp of Durzak, but the darkly stoic Orc guard could not be budged and soon the bound and gagged figure of Frodo's former tormentor was too tired too persist. Aragorn smiled grimly, Durzak was definitely the right choice to dog the steps of their ruffian prisoner. The Kings gaze turned next to Qurag, who held a weakly coughing ring bearer in his arms. Sam was muttering to himself and attempting to re-wrap Frodo's cloak about the trembling shoulders of his master "there now Mr. Frodo, jest the change in position that's aggravating the coughing, it'll soon settle…there ya go sir" he murmured soothingly. The frown on Sam's face told Aragorn that Frodo's lack of response to his soothing words were a concern.

Brego was held at the ready as Aragorn helped Sam upon his mounts broad back "here Sam, place the blanket before you, we'll lay Frodo here as if upon a sling…." Aragorn saw Sam lips begin to protest but he raised a hand to stop his utterance as he added "we will secure him to you with these straps, and never fear, I'll not tie them too tight" he said with a smile. Qurag carefully lifted Frodo, whose coughs had quieted, to Sam's waiting arms, being careful not to brush anything against the injured foot in his transference. Sam gently brushed a stray curl from his masters face and looked worriedly to the sunken cheeks and dark circles beneath his eyes, taking in the blue tinged lips and shallow breaths. Aragorn sought to bring comfort to the loyal friend as he said softly "I will walk at your side Sam, you need not fear, Frodo will have what comforts I can give him."

Sam sighed, resigning himself to the notion that this part of their journey would be one worry layered upon another as he sought to keep his friend as free from pain as possible. He leaned down to whisper words of comfort "lie ye quiet Mr. Frodo….Strider'll get us to yer little lady as soon as he's able". Frodo drew in a deep breath, his coughs reawakened by his attempts to bring in enough air to speak. Between his raspy coughs he sought to share his thoughts with Sam as his fever bright eyes squinted against the brightness of the rising sun. "Sam..we must find the her" he paused to cough as Sam pulled the bony frame of his master more upright to ease his rattled breathes…."the princess needs her prince" he gasped…."do not let me fail to aid her my friend…she… calls ….to me…. for help" his last words barely audible as his dwindling energy and lack of breath robbed his voice of strength.

"I'll do all in me power sir….ye'll see to her aide as soon as the will 'o Samwise Gamgee can get yer there…." Sam's voice carried the promise of his heart and Frodo lay back as his cough and his fears were lessened. "Thank you Sam…" Frodo said weakly as he lifted the corner of his lips in what might have passed as a smile "I shall always heed her call….as long as I am able….I promised to be her teller of tales…to share the adventures of the world …to share my hope Sam." The stocky hobbit looked, and he recalled all the hours he'd spent captivated by tales of far away and long ago ,with eyes burning from the pain of tears held back , he stared into the wondrous light of love that shone in his companions eyes. A deep and agonizingly long cough erupted from the ring bearer and Sam just soothed him to quiet with murmurs of encouragement and strokes upon his shoulders to ease the passage of the expellations.When the coughs eased at last Sam shifted Frodo's weight to bring his head more upright and he hugged the frail blanket draped form of his hero "She'll 'ave all the 'ope we can all muster sir…mark me words."

The dull 'clop clop' of the ponies hooves echoed in the shadows of the canyon walls. It was late afternoon and the heat of the day had passed it's zenith with the coming of the dusky lights of late afternoon. The stocky dwarf gratefully wiped the sleeve of his tunic across his forehead, it felt good to feel the slight puffs of air that the water borne currents of the river before them wafted back into the narrow confines of the canyon. He looked anxiously through the shadows, seeking to spot the motions of the horse and rider up ahead. Galen was scouting the distant bend in the trail and his tall figure was fading from sight as Gimli felt a chill run through his frame, a boding of evil coming his way seeped into his mind and the road ahead seemed suddenly darker. He was about to raise the riding crop used to urge the ponies to their fastest speed, to use the adrenaline he'd kept so far in check to flee the confines of the steep canyon walls. A voice behind him made him start and he frowned as he lost the thread of his tension and turned to respond to the child behind him "master dwarf….I have to lose my waters " the little voice whispered. The small but anxious and hopeful bright eyes of a young child glowed in the shadows of the canyon walls.

Gimli found himself smiling broadly, his anxiety and fear laid to rest as he met the eyes of the child…."certainly miss Yanna….as we reach the gathering of spruce ahead we will pull up"…he saw the distress in her eyes and noted the clenching of her jaw and he added as gently as his gruff voice could muster "if ye can not wait child I shall pull up right here." Her smile wavered but the drop of her chin passed as a sign of assent for the Dwarf, so he reached to pat her head and turning back to the team of ponies pulled back on the reins and stopped their forward motion. Several other children took their chance and jumped to the relief offered by the near scrub brush.

Kylos looked anxiously to the array of brush and rocks surrounding them…his mind was uneasy, he felt the ticking of the clock, the transience of time, the fleeting sensation of hope struggling to remain alive. He glanced to the smiling countenance of their dwarven guide and then looked ahead to the empty road that Galen had disappeared upon moments before. The world as he once knew was behind him, he saw in the distant blurred images of his mind, days of familiarity and predictable routines, days of soft acceptance and gentle encouragement. He looked to the faces of the young ones about him and he remembered his youth, remembered a lifetime ago when he had played the games of childhood, as he'd sought to learn the patterns of his future.

He was now in a world where his vigilance, his suspicion and his tolerance for pain would guide his choices. He was on edge, hyper vigilant to all sounds and sights before him. His foresight of the past days had remained a torment to him, one he could neither share nor justify and had served only to set his already frayed nerves to teeter upon the edge of paranoia. The sudden screech of a distant bird caused him to swivel rapidly side to side as he sought to see from whence the sound came. The sound came again, the trilling call and echoed reply of a bird to it's mate. Kylos wished he paid better attention to the naming of the birds in the forests and meadows of his young and innocent days….but he hadn't and could only guess at the nature of the bird calls he was hearing.

The children who'd sought the privacy of nearby bushes to attend to their needs began to return from their appointed rounds. Kylos caught the eye of Gimli as the moments stretched out into uncomfortable stretches of time and still there was no sign of Yanna. Kylos widened his eyes expectantly and shrugged his shoulders as he gestured wordlessly to the dwarf that he would check the adjacent growth of tree and bushes in search of their wagon mate. He hopped carefully from his place in the wagon and walked off to a spot seen oft used by his peers. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun, with a crook of his fingers illuminating his choice of foot path, he began his cautious steps forward. "Yanna" he whispered "Yanna…..are you alright then lass?" he asked and then continued "We are worried for you on out now….'tis no good joking with them who have no time for a witty out Yanna" he softly completed his words, a tough rendition of wheedling heard in his young voice.

After a few long moments, The dwarf could no longer stand the tension, with a last glance at the children behind him he climbed down from the wagon's seat and entered the closest set of bushes. Gimili crept forward slowly, shaking the bushes to alert the lass to his presence, he did not want to catch her unaware and violate her privacy….but he was becoming uneasy. "There 'tis something not right here my friend" he muttered to himself, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as a sudden feeling of dread seeped into his heart. He walked faster now, less concerned with Yanna's privacy than her safety, he called out her name "Yanna…..finish yer business lass…..we've got to move on now". He hastened his pace yet again, ripping bushes aside and calling the lasses name he heard Kylos begin to yell her name as well and the air soon echoed with twin cries of "Yanna…Yanna…". But no answer came.

Gimli, breathing hard, sweat trickling down beneath his leather jerkin felt panic fill him as he made the decision to head back to the wagon…he would need to enlist the aid of the other orphans he decided and he pushed aside the last bush ready to shout out his request as his heart thudded painfully in his chest and his mouth opened in fear.

Yanna, her face pale with fear and eyes pleading silently for help, was held in the encircled arm of a swarthy skinned corsair. The large muscled man tightened his arm about the small girl's neck as his ship mates looked on with stony faces. Gimli was suddenly struck down from behind and fell with a grunt to the rock strewn cart trail. He landed hard on his hands and knees, instinctively reaching for his short handled axe he found his arm wrenched behind his back as a sharp pain exploded in his gut. The Corsair brought his foot in an agonizing kick to the dwarf's midsection and Gimli bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. He was dragged to his feet struggling madly, arms pulled sharply back when a second Corsair brought his long gleaming blade to rest amidst the tumble of the dwarf's red beard. He gave up his struggles and glared at the darkly tattooed and greasy haired scavenger before him.

Keldor stared down at the dust covered dwarf before him "there will be no resistance Dwarf….others will pay for your mistakes" he said with quiet purpose. He turned to the Corsair holding the young lass before him and pausing a moment to say "do not make the mistake of thinking we have any need of compassion my dwarf" he nodded slowly and purposefully. Gimli, having seen the blatant disregard for life reflected in the flat dark eyes of the Corsair, screamed his anguish as the guard in a flash had taken his knife and drawn it across the dirt encrusted neck of the young lass before throwing her lifeless body to the ground.

Gimli began at once to struggle as he sought to break free. Keldor nodded once more and another child was dragged from the cart. Gimli realized his mistake at once and ceased his struggles as he growled, his voice thick with hatred "you win pirate, I'll be still so that the children will live". Keldor nodded, his lips curled up in a sneer "oh, you'll do more than that Mr. Dwarf…..you'll do more than that to ensure the safety of my newest slaves….". Keldor paused to look over the motley crew before him, children whose ages and sizes varied greatly from one to another. "You'll teach them to row my ship… as you once did so skillfully for my other slaves" the deep steadiness of Keldor's voice continued as he stared at the stoic dwarf before him "the woodland folk you helped me to procure….or have you forgotten my angry young dwarf?"

The dwarf, who'd been still to forestall any further harm to the children….let his gaze break from the depth of hatred in Keldor's eyes and he took in the horror of Yanna's limp body and the fear filled faces of the remaining orphans, he swallowed his pride and chose his words with great care. "Aye Keldor….I know of the workings of yer great ship…and at the need of these children…I'll return to me tasks as yer row master….but mark my words….the King will stand for no harm coming to the children of his Kingdom".

Keldor paused in his hard gaze, his icy eyes resting for a long moment upon the short stature of the dwarf before him as he said "Perhaps a trade will be more to his liking then….he does after all seem to be in possession of my property….there is the matter of Firngil's ownership we have yet to barter….and I doubt not that the King will listen to the pleadings of his Halflings when he sees what is to be gained…..I have no doubt of this my friend Master Gimli"…..the Corsair captain said with a laconic grin. With a dismissive nod of his head and a curt growl he beckoned the growing number of his men to take control of the cart as Gimli and Kylos were trussed painfully and tossed with no quarter to the back of the wagon as the rest of the orphans were forced to walk….their hands tied to the two ropes that trailed the slow creaking of the cart.

Gimli fought to keep a stoic expression firm upon his face. The gaze of the young lad Kylos near to burning a hole in the stalwart dwarf's composure, he turned from the unspoken questions in the lads eyes to view the limp and dust covered body of Yanna. Her crumpled body and weakly folded limbs reminded Gimli of a young bird who had, with no parental protection about them, ventured too far and fallen from the haven of their nest. He looked from the still body of the young lass who'd brought naught but warmth and smiles to loneliness of a warriors campsite to the hardened ease with which the corsair captain carried himself. His mind burned with images of pain, degradation and abject misery with which he'd been surrounded in his past. He vowed his steely dwarf promise and knew that where one war had ended, another battle for him was just beginning, his heart would never find it's peace while his focal point of hatred existed.

The quiet clip clop of lightly stepping elven steeds were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the late afternoon. Legolas raised his hand to signal a halt to his companions. He looked at the view spread before him, the river sparkled with the fleeting magnificence of a fey jewel cache in the rays of the setting sun, sapphire blues, ruby reds and the lustrous golden hues of near forgotten treasure. He willed himself to pause, to refresh his spirit with the beauty spread before him, but found his heart could not see the glories of the view below him while his mind thought only of the passing of time that such colors had brought to pass. He turned the intensity of his sea colored eyes to the view of the twenty elven warriors behind him, he calculated in his mind the distance they would still need to travel to reach the site of the second ship, he raised a shapely eyebrow and nodded as he urged his horse towards the narrow path the to waiting river. Silently the graceful and tensely upright warriors, displaying the stony elegance of their kind, followed.

Galen groaned, his head throbbed and he felt the roil of his uneasy stomach assail him as a wave of dizziness nearly overwhelmed him. He bit his lip and forming his hands to lose fists, sought to pull himself forward. The uneven stones of the ground dug into his fingertips and he shuddered in pain as he sought to find purchase and roll himself over to his back. Before he could gather his wits and strength enough to bring himself to a position of his choosing, he felt a sudden weight upon his back and a hand reached to roughly grasp his dust covered hair as his head was pulled back roughly. He stiffled his desire to groan and stiffened his body in wary protest of it's handling. He was muzzy in his perception of the world about him and his memory of the events of the last few moments could not be reconciled to his current circumstance…he could not understand what had happened …how he had come to be lying upon the trail with a roughly shod foot upon his lower back.

As he was trying to gather his thoughts he was abruptly rolled and yanked 'till he was facing the darkly etched face of the greasy haired ruffian whose presence filled his senses. The smell of the greasy hair and foul breath, the feel of ragged nails against his skin, the sight of the deeply scarred skin, flesh etched with tattoos and skin tortured to coerce the will of it's bearer bit into his senses and he waited for the word of his enslaver.

Yet before a single word could be uttered the breathless cry of a young child was heard and Galen shifted his gaze in time to see a small puff of dust and to hear the sound of a small body impacting with the hard ground. He held his breath waiting for the cry that he felt sure he'd soon hear, but the only sound to meet his ears was the panting of one trying hard to control themselves, one struggling not to cry, one who'd learned the cruel lesson that tears only made pain worse when they fell on deaf ears. He blinked heavily, waiting for his mind and senses to clear a little more, waiting for the darkly scarred hand entwined in his hair to lessen it's presence, waiting to see if all the fear in his heart would really be laid before him.

As the dust cleared and the owner of the silent tears made themselves known Galen felt himself gasp and begin to struggle in vain, but the swarthy muscled man to whom the iron grip belonged laughed harshly, his laughter echoed by the loud replies of others as Galen's arm was twisted behind his back and he was forced to his feet. He was dimly aware of a trickle of blood running down the side of his head and he clenched his eyes closed tightly to fight the vertigo of his abrupt changed in posture. As he struggled to master his growing dizziness and the uneasy roil of his stomach he breathed heavily through his nose and bit his lips.

The sound of small stones shifting and the grip of small hands upon his legs took his focus from his nausea and he willed himself to open his eyes and look down to the small being wrapped about his legs. He found himself looking to the wide eyed and fearful stare of dark blue eyes set in a face reddened from the sun, scratched and dirty from days of unrelenting travel and highlighted by the priceless gift of a smile. He felt his legs weaken in relief and surrounded by the cruel laughter and coarse comments of their captors the guard and the child who would be princess found their haven in the presence of the other.


End file.
